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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25006297">Being Boring</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthm/pseuds/arthm'>arthm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Check Please! (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Swearing, Whiskey is a disaster, Whiskey never remembers anyone's name, not always his fault</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:16:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>31,035</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25006297</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthm/pseuds/arthm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor Whisk's life is not easy. And, if he's honest, he probably shouldn't be making it harder. But, hey, he's just keeping to the letter of by-law #13.<br/>---<br/>Connor's four years at Samwell, moving from expressionless human disaster area to slightly more responsible and outgoing expressionless human disaster area in a number of fairly painful steps.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Connor "Whiskey" Whisk/Original Female Character(s), Connor "Whiskey" Whisk/Original Male Character(s), Denice "Foxtrot" Ford &amp; Tony "Tango" Tangredi &amp; Connor "Whiskey" Whisk, Denice "Foxtrot" Ford/Tony "Tango" Tangredi, Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Year 1 - Fall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this is mostly a character study of Whiskey, who is fun to invent things about. This was originally going to be four neat chapters covering each year, but has since ballooned a bit. This was begun before the final set of updates, but was fitted in to what happens there. If there remain discrepancies, assume Whiskey is lying.</p>
<p>This is mostly finished, so there will hopefully be updates about every two weeks or so.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean.</strong>
</p><p>Look, in his defence, it’s not about the sex.</p><p>Not <em>just</em> about the sex.</p><p>He just maintained a very literalist interpretation of by-law #13.</p>
<hr/><p>Connor had been lost for about twenty minutes, but he was now pretty sure that this was the right building.</p><p>He’d not managed to come for the orientation tour back when he’d been choosing colleges. He’d not actually gone anywhere, and so had been picking blind, unless you counted the prospectuses, where, if you believed them, every campus in the country was drenched in sun all year round, except for an aesthetic dusting of snow in New England every now and again. And everyone was always smiling, and the testimonials were amazing, and every college, if you believed its own publicity, was the one and only place for you.</p><p>Well, he didn’t believe any of the publicity. Each college was probably going to be good and bad. You just had to see which would affect you when you got there. His friends would have called him cynical over it, if they hadn’t already known that by long experience. And if they actually spoke to him and were still his friends. Which was probably doubtful.</p><p>Anyway, Samwell’s major point in its favour was that it had offered him a full scholarship, without which he wouldn’t be going to any college. And he really needed to go somewhere. Because…</p><p>Hmm. Just because.</p><p>But Samwell did seem nice, almost as nice as on the website, in the early September sun. The campus was very pretty. Very green. And he’d crossed a river at least twice now. And he was pretty sure there was a lake, or a big pond, or something.</p><p>But this place looked like a dorm building. Slightly tired-looking, but not run-down. Bits of it looked like it had been repainted over the summer. He wondered if that would last to the end of the week. He doubted that it would last to the end of the semester.</p><p>Balancing his bag against the wall, he got out his orientation pack, got his key, and went in.</p>
<hr/><p>Room 4.23.</p><p>Putting his bag down, he took the keycard out from between his teeth, and, after wiping it dry on his thigh, he swiped it through the lock, and he pushed open the door.</p><p>It was bigger than he expected. He’d had visions of a narrow room where you could practically touch the person in the other bed. But there was a big window at one end with both desks under it, and then the beds on either side of those. This room was bigger than the one he’d shared with his brother at home.</p><p>His eyes flicking from one side of the room to the other, Connor dropped his rucksack down onto bare mattress on the left, kicked his bag along the floor, before flopping back onto the bed himself. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He was a pretty fit guy, but lugging his bags up several flights of stairs was a bit of work. He was glad that he’d had the foresight to dump his hockey gear at the rink, even if that had added another cycle of being lost to his trip across and around the campus.</p><p>His arms folded behind his head, he stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, before arching his back in a stretch. He winced as he freed a hand and rubbed one shoulder, then the other, trying to press some of the strain of carrying all his stuff around out of his muscles. It would be good to get back into a routine of training again, get his muscles used to working again, after that summer. Access to a bath would be nice, too. He wondered idly if he would have that here. Somehow he doubted it.</p><p>Right. Best get unpacked before his roommate arrived. He sat up and flicked his polo shirt a few times in an effort to cool down. He didn’t want his first impression for his roommate to be him all sweaty.</p><p>He stood up and went to the desk. The view across the campus was pretty impressive. He couldn’t see the ice rink from here, but maybe that was a good thing. Didn’t want to have hockey on his mind all the time. And his impression from the ground was confirmed from up here – Samwell was indeed very pretty.</p><p>It was still pretty quiet out there. He’d got a very early flight from Phoenix, and then the train from Boston had been surprisingly quick. It did mean, though, that it was nearing twelve, and he’d already been up for all twelve of those hours. He didn’t think that he’d get a time to crash until tonight. Well, he was a college student now – long, irregular, hours were the new normal. He grimaced as he realised that he’d probably have to start getting more of a taste for coffee.</p><p>Shaking himself slightly, he turned away from the window, and went back to his stuff. He had a chest of drawers to himself, but it looked like they had to share the wardrobe. He hauled his bag up onto the bed and went through it. When he was done, he had filled only two of the drawers, and three hangers. At least it gave his roommate space. Shoving the bag under the bed, he untied his trainers from the netting, then brought out his computer and notebooks. A few more bits and pieces of clothes he’d shoved in there followed, and his toilet bag, and then it was empty. He hung it on the back of his chair, then went back to the bed.</p><p>Oh. Bugger.</p><p>No linen. No towels. He hadn’t thought about that at all. Had he been assuming that there’d be stuff? Surely he’d known that there wouldn’t be? Had he not spoken about it with his mum months ago? But, he supposed, things had taken quite a swing sideways since then. But, still, that kind of thing should have been in his head.</p><p>Ugh. There must be somewhere he could get it.</p><p>He wondered if he should go now, or wait for his roommate to arrive. It would be a bit standoffish to not be there, right? But, then again, he had no idea when the guy (and he presumed it was a guy) would arrive. And when did the shops round here close on a Sunday? Did Massachusetts shops close early on a Sunday? Did they even <em>open</em> on a Sunday?</p><p>Well. He’d have to go and find out. He picked up his bag. Should he leave a note? He –</p><p>He stopped as a heard a scrabbling outside the door, then a keycard being swiped (too fast) and the door not unlocking as it was pushed. A sigh, and a slower swipe, and a beep, and the door opened.</p><p>A tubby little guy with black hair, slightly red faced, with his glasses misting up, stared into the room, and was slightly startled to see Connor standing there.</p><p>‘Hi!’</p><p>‘Hi.’</p><p>‘I’m Matt!’ He abandoned his suitcase, and came into the room, holding out a hand.</p><p>He shook it. ‘Connor.’</p><p>‘I guess we’re going to be roomies!’</p><p>‘I guess so.’</p><p>Matt hurried back to his suitcase, and dragged it in. It looked heavy.</p><p>‘Can I help you with that?’ asked Connor, starting forward.</p><p>‘Oh, no, no!’ said Matt brightly. ‘I got it all the way up here. Thanks, though!’ He stopped. ‘Actually, I’m going to use it to hold open the door – is that OK? My mom and dad are downstairs with more of my stuff – I should go down and help them. Can you watch the room?’</p><p>‘Uh. OK. I can help bring stuff up –’</p><p>‘It’s fine, really!’ Matt rushed off. ‘I’ll be right back, roomie!’</p><p>Connor watched him go. Well. First impressions – slightly confused, if he was honest. But he seemed a nice enough guy.</p><p>Soon, a man with a moustache turned up, carrying a bag. ‘Is this room 23?’</p><p>‘Yeah – I’m Connor – are you Matt’s dad?’</p><p>‘Yes – Junior said there’d be someone here.’</p><p>‘Can I help you with anything? He said not to come down, but…’</p><p>‘No, we’re fine.’ The man put the big bag down on the bed. He shook Connor’s hand. ‘Matt Stewart. Senior.’</p><p>‘Uh huh.’ Connor smiled. ‘Good, er, drive?’</p><p>‘Pretty good going. You from round here, son?’</p><p>‘No – Arizona.’</p><p>‘Really! That’s quite the trip. And on your own?’</p><p>Connor nodded.</p><p>‘I suppose they’ll visit some time?’</p><p>‘I don’t know. Uh –’</p><p>‘Oh, Dad – you’ve met Connor!’</p><p>Matt was back, with another box, and a woman, presumably his mother, behind him, carrying a crate. How much stuff did this guy have?</p><p>Flushed, Matt, quickly put all the stuff down near his bed, and then there were four of them in the room, which no longer seemed quite as big as when Connor had first opened the door to it.</p><p>‘Oh, Mom, this is Connor – Connor, this is Mom.’</p><p>Connor raised a query of an eyebrow.</p><p>The woman smiled. ‘Catherine.’</p><p>‘Oh, yeah…’ said Matt.</p><p>‘Nice to meet you all.’</p><p>‘Where’re you from?’ asked Matt’s mom.</p><p>‘Tucson.’</p><p>‘Wow, that’s quite a long way!’ said Matt.</p><p>‘Yeah, maybe I should have gone to Maine.’</p><p>‘The danger there would be them making you play hockey!’ said Matt’s dad.</p><p>‘Oh, uh, I <em>do</em> play hockey.’</p><p>The man looked a bit sheepish. ‘Oh, er, sorry…’</p><p>‘It’s cool. Not everyone likes hockey. It can be intense.’ He shuffled back a little, so that he was leaning against the edge of his bed. Things had gone quite quiet. ‘So, um, what about you?’</p><p>‘Oh, out the back end of Pennsylvania,’ said Matt. ‘You can practically see Canada from the house.’</p><p>‘That’s a bit of an exaggeration, Junior,’ said his dad. He ran his eyes over Connor’s side of this room. ‘When is your stuff being shipped up?’</p><p>‘What?’</p><p>He pointed at Connor’s empty shelves, the mostly-empty wardrobe, and the bare bed. ‘You just don’t seem to have all your stuff – at least nowhere near as we’ve packed.’</p><p>‘Oh, this is all I’ve brought with me.’ He crossed his arms. ‘It’s a long way to bring stuff.’</p><p>‘I guess, yeah. Did you fly?’</p><p>Connor nodded. ‘Yeah.’</p><p>‘And are your parents coming soon?’ asked Catherine.</p><p>Matt was starting to fidget. Connor didn’t blame him. The combination of new roommate and his parents was an odd one, especially since, as Connor was aware, he wasn’t giving very much away. ‘Oh. Maybe. I don’t know.’</p><p>‘I already asked him this.,’ said Matt, Senior. ‘But I’m sure they’ll come when they’re able. Who wouldn’t want to visit their kid at college?’</p><p>‘Yeah.’ How to get out of this conversation smoothly? ’ He looked down at his bed. Yeah, this was a way out. ‘Uh, actually, there was a bit off stuff I couldn’t bring with me, so I’m just gonna’ take a walk around, see where things are.’ Damn. He could feel himself going red. ‘See if there’s somewhere to buy sheets, and, er, that sort of thing. But I can hang around to carry stuff, if you need, or –’</p><p>‘Oh, no, don’t hang around for me,’ said Matt, quickly, his eyes meeting Connor’s and seeming to recognise his slightly panicked expression. ‘We’ll be fine. Do you reckon you’ll be back before dinner?’</p><p>Connor raised his eyebrows. ‘I hope so.’</p><p>‘We can maybe go find the dining hall together, then?’</p><p>‘Uh. Yeah. Sounds good.’ He nodded to Matt’s parents. ‘Nice to, uh, meet you.’ He took a few stiff steps towards the door.</p><p>‘You’ve got your key?’ asked Catherine.</p><p>Connor patted his top pocket. ‘Yeah. Back soon.’ He left them in the room, and, after a moment’s thought, headed left for the stairs. Then doubled back to where they actually were. He should have known by the stream of people moving in.</p><p>It took a surprisingly long time to get to the bottom of the stairs, as he got stuck in the corners by people’s suitcases, washing airers, and even a TV. People actually brought TVs to college? Anyway, by the time he actually got to the bottom of the stairs, Connor was all but out of pleasant smiles and ‘It’s OK, really!’s and bitten back jabs about how he had two feet and could always use the other one. Then, when he was about to go outside, the door swung open, and pretty much into him.</p><p>‘Oh, sorry, man, are you okay?’</p><p>‘I’m fine.’</p><p>‘You sure?’ The guy held out a hand. ‘I’m Tony. And you are?’</p><p>‘Connor.’</p><p>‘Nice to meet you. Sorry about that.’</p><p>‘Not a problem. Really.’ He tried another smile. It maybe didn’t quite convince, given the worried expression on the other guy’s face.</p><p>‘Just moved in?’</p><p>‘Uh huh.’</p><p>‘Where were you going?’</p><p>‘Just out.’</p><p>‘Ah. OK – will I see you around?’</p><p>‘Maybe. Bye.’</p><p>Without looking back, he left the building before anyone else could crash into him. He didn’t know where there might be some kind of campus store, but he remembered there being an information centre back by the central square, and there was, at least, a sign for where that was. So he followed it. As he went, he nodded to a woman very similar to the boy he’d just met. Must be nice getting moved in like that.</p>
<hr/><p>He unlocked the door. Matt’s parents were gone, but he was <em>still</em> putting his stuff away.</p><p>‘Oh, hey!’ Matt grinned. ‘Did you get what you needed?’</p><p>‘Yeah. Pretty much.’ He shrugged. ‘Couldn’t get a pillow, but I’m sure I’ll pick one up once I work out where the main town is, rather than just the college bit.’</p><p>‘Oh, that’s OK – I’ve got two pillows. You can borrow one until you find one.’</p><p>Connor blinked. ‘Oh – really? Uh, thanks.’</p><p>Matt grinned. ‘No problem!’</p><p>Connor unpacked the new sheets from his bag, and started to make his bed. ‘Your folks gone, or what?’</p><p>‘Oh, yeah, they went back. They’ve both got work tomorrow, and it’s a long way back to where we live.’</p><p>‘They seemed nice.’</p><p>‘They are. Sorry that they started on at you with all the questions. I guess that they’re just interested in who I’m rooming with this year.’</p><p>‘It was good of them to drive you all the way over here.’</p><p>‘Yeah, well, I don’t think I could have stopped them if I’d wanted to.’ Matt smiled fondly. ‘They were very determined that they were both dropping me off at college.’ He laughed slightly. ‘I guess your parents were the same at the airport?’</p><p>‘Huh? Oh, yeah. They were keen to, uh, see me go.’</p><p>‘Yeah. Parents, eh?. Though I don’t know how I’d have got all my stuff here without them.’ He looked around at his packed side of the room. ‘Do you think I brought too much?’</p><p>Connor ran his eye across the clothes, and posters, and pictures, and books, and knick-knacks, and fairy lights, and other assorted things, useful and useless. ‘Um. No comment.’</p><p>Matt snorted. ‘Well, I won’t say anything about your bare shelves.’</p><p>‘And what did your parents think of me?’ asked Connor with a wry smile.</p><p>Matt blushed. ‘They thought you were fine. They were still worried that you didn’t have much with you – but I’m not sure we’re working from a normal baseline,’ he said, nodding at his own side of the room. ‘But that’s just how they are – especially my mom.’</p><p>‘If I need more stuff, I will get more stuff.’</p><p> ‘You can pick some stuff up at the enrolment fair in the week. I’ve been thinking about maybe getting –’</p><p>‘<em>More</em> stuff?’</p><p>Matt smiled. ‘Well, I was thinking of maybe a plant. You could get one. We could look after them together. Something green, you know, to brighten up the place?’</p><p>‘Is that not what the fairy lights are for?’</p><p>‘Oh! Do you like them?’</p><p>‘Only if they don’t stay on all night.’</p><p>‘Yeah, of course. And you could maybe get a poster, or something, for your wall.’ He looked at Connor’s desk. ‘Do you not have any photos, or anything?’</p><p>Connor flushed. ‘Oh, er, no. I guess that I just never bother to print them off from my phone.’</p><p>‘Typical modern kid.’</p><p>‘I bet we’re the same age.’</p><p>‘Well, yeah, but I’m retro.’</p><p>Connor eyed the black-and-white film posters. ‘Mmm.’</p><p>‘What?’</p><p>‘Oh, nothing… Am I rooming with a hipster?’</p><p>‘No!’</p><p>‘Do you have, like, a polaroid camera?’</p><p>‘Maybe…’</p><p>Connor’s lip twitched. ‘Well, maybe you can help me build a collection of photos.’ He smoothed out the throw on top of the sheets. ‘Now, hungry?’</p><p>‘I’ll say!’</p><p>‘Now, I haven’t seen where the dining hall is, but I’m sure it’ll be easy to find.’</p><p>‘Most important place on campus!’</p><p>‘Come on, then.’</p>
<hr/><p>‘… and then we got stuck on the roof of the gym. We had to stay there all night until the janitor found us the next day.’</p><p>Connor snorted. ‘That’s ridiculous.’</p><p>‘We were so embarrassed. And also in so much trouble.’</p><p>‘I bet you were.’</p><p>‘But most of all, we were –’ he lowered his voice ‘– fucking freezing!’</p><p>Connor dropped his own voice. ‘You don’t have to swear quietly, you know. No-one to hear you except me.’</p><p>Matt went pink. ‘I know, but – habit, I guess.’</p><p>‘Well, snap the fuck out of it.’ Connor winked. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get you trained.’</p><p>Matt sighed. ‘This is not what I came to college to learn.’</p><p>‘Well, I’ll guess you’ll learn all sorts of unexpected things. Like, tonight, for instance, we learnt never to have the chilli again.’</p><p>Matt grimaced. ‘That was pretty bad –’</p><p>‘Uh – uh – uh!’ said Connor, wagging a finger. ‘What was it?’</p><p>‘It was pretty – shit?’</p><p>‘Good boy.’ Connor smirked. He yawned, and got out his key, opening the door to the building. ‘One thing at a time.’</p><p>‘Mm’ Matt headed up the stairs in front of him. ‘How have you found your first day?’</p><p>‘Pretty good, actually. Met some nice people.’ He paused. ‘And their son, I guess.’</p><p>‘Oi!’</p><p>Connor smiled, then ducked past Matt’s unimpressed glare towards their room. Pushing the door open, he looked over his shoulder. ‘Are you a shower at night or in the morning kind of a guy?’</p><p>‘Uh, at night, most of the time.’ Matt checked his watch. ‘But probably tomorrow morning, at this time of night.’</p><p>‘Cool. I’m pretty much a morning person – kinda have to be – so that’ll work out.’</p><p>‘Now we only have to coordinate with the half-dozen other rooms we share it with.’</p><p>Now in the room, Connor yawned again. He shrugged his jacket off, then went over to his drawer to take out a pair of pyjamas.</p><p>‘Do you snore?’</p><p>Connor turned around. ‘Nah. My brother would have made me stop years ago.’ He pulled his jumper off over his head, then turned away to unbutton his shirt. Swapping it with a t-shirt, he then did the same with his trousers. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced around his side of the room to work out where to put his dirty clothes, before just settling on dumping them into an empty drawer.</p><p>He turned to his bed, and pulled down the stiff new covers, and climbed in. When he looked back across the room, Matt was still hunting around in his cupboard, presumably for his own pyjamas.</p><p>‘I know they’re in here somewhere…’</p><p>Connor rolled his eyes to himself, then reached across to where he’d hung his jacket to get his phone out of his pocket. Cancelling that morning’s alarm – probably not a great way to ingratiate yourself with a new roommate, even if they were getting along OK so far – he plugged it in to charge.</p><p>He looked about himself. Now was the sort of time that he’d like a book to read. Well, he’d hopefully have access to the library soon.</p><p>‘I think I’m just gonna turn out the light – are you staying up long?’</p><p>Connor started, and looked over at Matt, who, it seemed, had found his nightwear, and had changed into it startlingly quickly.</p><p>‘Oh, uh, no – I’m pretty tired.’</p><p>‘Cool – uh, well, it’s been good to meet you.’</p><p>‘Um. You, too. See you in the morning, I guess.’</p><p>‘I hope so!’ Matt flicked off his light.</p><p>A few moments later, Connor did he same.</p><p>‘Good night, Connor.’</p><p>‘Good night.’</p><p>He rolled over and faced the wall. He was exhausted, but still a little too wired to sleep.</p><p>He was here. Sometimes over the last few weeks, he’d thought it’d never happen. That – that he wouldn’t make it here. But it was. It hadn’t been taken away. And he could breathe again. This was a chance. He didn’t have to always be on edge.</p><p>To prove it, he took in and let out a few deep breaths. He put the flat of his palm against the cool plaster just ahead of him in the darkness. He wondered what his life here would be like.</p><p>He closed his eyes, and waited for his brain to settle down enough to let him sleep. He was pretty sure that Matt was crying. But that was OK.</p><p>It was maybe all going to be OK.</p>
<hr/><p>Monday morning, and he had to go somewhere that had been called ‘The Haus’ in the very long email that he’d received from someone who had been called Eric. There had been so many font changes, and smiley faces, and exclamation marks, and, frankly, it had got a little on Connor’s nerves. How could anyone be that relentlessly positive? He was also slightly puzzled by the almost incessant references to pie. And there had also been a link to guy’s YouTube channel, which he hadn’t clicked. He’d rather meet the person, not the persona.</p><p>Anyway, he hoped that such forced cheeriness wouldn’t be too much of a feature of the hockey team.</p><p>As he reached the bottom of the stairs, there was – Tony? – again. He was frowning at a map.</p><p>Connor ignored him, and pulled open the door. As warm today as it had been yesterday. He wondered how long that would last up here. He had to confess to not looking forward to the winter.</p><p>‘Hey – wait up!’</p><p>Frowning, he turned, keeping the door open against his hip. Tony (?) hurried over to him.</p><p>‘I was wondering if you could give me directions?’</p><p>Connor sighed. ‘Well, I’ve been here about as long as you.’ The guy looked so hopeful, though. ‘But where are you trying to go? I might know it, or have passed something it’s near.’</p><p>‘Here.’ He pointed at a street on his map. ‘It’s the hockey frat house? Have you been there? Do you know where it is from here?’</p><p>Connor tipped his head, blinked, and then laughed under his breath. ‘I’m headed there right now.’</p><p>‘Are you on the team as well? Cool! I didn’t realise! Do you think we’ll be friends?’</p><p>‘I mean, that kinda depends on us, right?’ He checked his watch. ‘We don’t want to be late. Come on, then.’</p><p>‘Are you sure it’s this way? And you were Connor, right?’</p><p>Connor nodded. He hoped that Tony would let up with the questions.</p>
<hr/><p>Tony, it turned out, did not let up with the questions.</p><p>‘Where are you from?’</p><p>‘When did you start playing hockey?’                                  </p><p>‘What’s your favourite team?’</p><p>‘Who’s your favourite player?’</p><p>‘What position are you?’</p><p>‘What number do you think you’ll be?’</p><p>‘What’s your favourite number?’</p><p>‘Doesn’t everyone have one?’</p><p>‘What do you think the team is like?’     </p><p>‘Do you think they’ll like us?’</p><p>‘Do you think we’ll get to meet Jack Zimmerman?’</p><p>‘What do you think he’s like?’</p><p>‘Did we miss it?’</p><p>‘Huh?’</p><p>Connor stopped. ‘The ‘Haus’. I think we went past it.’</p><p>‘Oh.’</p><p>They turned round. ‘What number was it?’</p><p>Tony looked at his map. ‘43. And that email from Bitty –’</p><p>‘From who?’</p><p>‘Oh, Eric, I guess. He told us to call him that.’ He frowned. ‘At the open day?’</p><p>‘I didn’t go to that.’</p><p>‘Ah. I wondered why you didn’t seem familiar, even with my memory.’</p><p>‘Yeah. So, Bitty said it was blue. Or did he say that it was <em>opposite</em> a blue house? Um.’</p><p>‘Well, we’ll just have to work that one out.’</p><p>They started walking back up the road, looking at the blue houses as they went past. There were more than they expected.</p><p>‘None of these have numbers,’ said Tony.</p><p>‘No.’ Connor stopped. ‘But I reckon it’s one of these two.’ There were two houses, very similar to one another, on opposite sides of the road. There was no-one outside either. They were actually still early. What? He liked to be prepared. So sue him. ‘Left or right?’</p><p>‘Uh. Left!’</p><p>Connor marched up one path. ‘Well, here goes nothing.’ He went up the steps, and knocked on the door, Tony hanging a little behind his shoulder.</p><p>They waited a few moments, and it opened.</p><p>‘YO! FRESHMEN!’</p><p>The guy on the other side was tall, with very broad shoulders, fully on show in a tank top. His dark hair was slicked back beneath a baseball cap, while in his hand, pointing towards them was –</p><p>A lacrosse stick. Oh.</p><p>‘Um. Sorry. Wrong house,’ said Connor.</p><p>Big-and-strong grinned widely. ‘Not a problem, man. Where’re you after?’</p><p>‘We’re looking for hockey?’ asked Tony.</p><p>The grin slipped away. ‘Oh. Well, those guys are over there. Don’t believe everything they say.’</p><p>The door closed quite abruptly. Tony and Connor looked at each other.</p><p>‘O-kaaay…’ muttered Tony.</p><p>Connor turned on his heel and led Tony across the road. Behind them, a series of banners were unfurled declaring that that was, to avoid all confusion, the lacrosse house. Banging on the door of <em>this </em>house revealed a short man, backed by an even shorter woman.</p><p>‘Hi, y’all!’</p>
<hr/><p>After the Haus tour (‘<em>Swawesome</em> – really?), then they got to go out onto the ice for the first time.</p><p>He took a deep sniff of the cold air, to get back into that distinctive smell of coolant and chemicals. He winced and hissed.</p><p>‘You OK?’ asked – ‘Dax’? – who had just come onto the ice next to him.</p><p>‘Oh, uh, just my nose. It got broken a little while ago.’</p><p>‘What happened?’</p><p>‘Oh, you know. Hockey.’</p><p>‘You played contact at high school level?’</p><p>‘Oh, no – I just fell awkwardly in a practice.’</p><p>‘Are you looking forward to a more physical game at college?’</p><p>‘I guess.’ He looked at the guy next to him. He wasn’t as big as he knew D-men could be, but there was a certain solidity to him that Connor couldn’t match. ‘Do you like it?’</p><p>‘Love it.’ He clapped him on the shoulder. ‘It’s all to keep the little people like you safe.’</p><p>Connor snorted. ‘I’m sure I’ll be grateful.’</p><p>‘Dex? You going to be bringing that tadpole over here any time soon, or are you going to wait until he becomes a frog?’</p><p>‘Oops, sorry kid. Don’t want to get you in trouble on your first day.’</p><p>Connor followed Dex across the ice. He was a little bit nervous – but it was good to be back on his skates.</p>
<hr/><p>On their way back, Tango (as he now was) seemed exhausted of questions, having ascertained that, yes, Connor had quite liked the curtains.</p><p>‘What do you think the deal is with Bittle and Zimmerman?’ asked Connor (who was, apparently, now ‘Whiskey’), after a while.</p><p>‘What do you mean?’</p><p>‘Well, there was definitely something up between him and Kent Parson.’</p><p>‘He just said he was a really nice guy, though?’</p><p>Connor wrinkled his nose. ‘I’m not entirely sure he did.’</p><p>‘Be cool to meet him, though, right?’</p><p>‘Aces, though. Classic Arizona-Nevada rivalry.’</p><p>‘Is that a thing?’</p><p>Connor shrugged. ‘I can make it a thing. Who do you support, anyway?’</p><p>‘I mean, obviously the Hurricanes. Even if they haven’t been great lately. But I was, like, nine when they won the Stanley Cup? Probably my formative hockey influence.’</p><p>‘No such luck in Arizona…’</p><p>They turned the corner, the dorms now back in sight.</p><p>‘Hey, Whiskey?’</p><p>‘Still here.’</p><p>‘Do you want to go out tonight? Like, I’m a bit nervous to go to these events and parties not knowing anyone, and I wondered if we could maybe go together?’</p><p>‘Uh, sure. Got somewhere in mind?’</p><p>‘I got given a flyer about a party. I’ll message you.’</p><p>‘OK. I’ll bring my roommate, too, if he wants to come.’</p><p>‘Yeah! That’d be great, too.’</p><p>Connor pressed his card against the reader, and Tango held the door open for him. They started up the stairs. ‘Will you bring your roommate?’</p><p>‘Oh, I have a really tiny single.’</p><p>‘Oh, nice. Quiet.’</p><p>‘Yeah. lonely, though.’ Tango stopped at the door to his floor. ‘Room 33. Feel free to stop by if you ever want to say hi.’</p><p>‘Thanks. I might. I’ll see you tonight.’</p><p>Tony grinned. ‘Cool – I’ll see you later! Bye, Whiskey!’</p><p>Connor waved goodbye as he headed up the stairs to his floor.</p><p>He actually maybe did like Tango. Positive and friendly, but it didn’t seem forced. He seemed a fun, open, authentic kind of guy. Rather different from him.</p><p>He opened his door. ‘Hey.’</p><p>‘Been inducted into your sports cult?’ asked Matt, looking up from what looked like a copy of <em>The Stranger</em>.</p><p>‘Um. Well, I met the team. We got the tour. Is that what you mean?’</p><p>‘Is there not ritual humiliation at some point?’</p><p>‘Oh, hazing. I think that comes later. I’d have to check the schedule.’</p><p>‘You have a schedule for that kind of thing?’</p><p>‘Oh, yes. Organised fun is the best kind of fun.’</p><p>Matt laughed. ‘So they say… I suppose it at least gives you an in-built bunch of people to be friends with. Not sure what I’m going to do.’</p><p>‘Well, there are loads of things to sign up to. I suppose you find some things that stick.’</p><p>‘Exactly. This time next week, and I’ll be on so many mailing lists.’ Matt put his book down. ‘Are you going to the society fair? Or will hockey take up all your time? Is that it for your college free time?’</p><p>Connor dropped onto his bed. ‘I hope not. It’s going to take up a lot of time, yeah, but I want to get into other things while I’m here. So, yeah, I’ll tag along to that on … is it Wednesday? I’ve got my sport, I suppose, but, uh, everything else is fair game.’</p><p>‘I can see you as an actor.’</p><p>Connor rolled his eyes. ‘Hardly. Is there anything you’ve got your eye on?’</p><p>‘Not really sure – that book in the welcome pack was <em>so</em> big!’ Matt sighed. ‘I want to try something whacky. Only at college once, right?’</p><p>‘At least until the mid-life crisis, yeah.’</p><p>Matt smiled. ‘Yeah. Hope not. Hmm.’ He tapped his hand against his leg. ‘There’s like an engineering society where they build all kinds of crazy things. But maybe that would be too like my actual work.’</p><p>‘Yeah, much better to let it be full of English majors writing sonnets to screwdrivers.’</p><p>‘Would quite fancy the poetry society, to be honest.’</p><p>‘You write poetry?’</p><p>‘No, but I could start.’</p><p>‘Journalism?’</p><p>‘Oh, God, no.’ Matt screwed up his nose. ‘No-one more self-involved and self-important than the people writing for the student rag.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll find something. And you’ll find something to supplement your ice-skating.’</p><p>‘Is that a dig?’</p><p>‘Maybe. You may have to get used to them.’</p><p>Connor snorted. ‘We’ve known each other just over 24 hours, and you’ve started on the insults?’</p><p>‘It seems to fit.’</p><p>‘Yeah, you’re probably right. Just as you’re going to have to get used to me getting up really early. Hope you’re a sound sleeper.’</p><p>‘Man, that should be something you can put on the housing form: No jocks with early practices.’</p><p>‘Just you wait.’ Connor stared at the ceiling. ‘Well, if you can bear to associate with a jock like me, then I’m going out with someone from the team tonight – do you want to come?’</p><p>Matt nodded. ‘Absolutely – count me in!’</p><p>‘Great. I’ll text Tango.’</p><p>‘Tango? What kind of name is that?’</p><p>‘Tony. Hockey nickname. He’ll probably call me Whiskey.’</p><p>‘Oh. Should I –’</p><p>‘Connor.’</p><p>‘Fab.’ Matt went back to his book. ‘I look forward to it.’</p>
<hr/><p>Connor had lost Tango and Matt some time ago. They’d really hit it off. Which was nice. He just hoped that they both remembered to be friends with the stone-faced boy who’d brought them together.</p><p>But on his way through the crowd – this place was sort of a frat party, and it couldn’t possibly be legal – he’d been pulled aside by a girl with green streaks in her hair.</p><p>‘Hey, handsome.’</p><p>‘Um, hi…’</p><p>‘You a freshman?’</p><p>‘Yeah…’</p><p>‘Thought you looked all skittish and bambi-like.’ She grinned. ‘Mind if I take the fuzz off your ears?’</p><p>He frowned. ‘What?’</p><p>She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m suggesting you come with me, and we have a little fun.’</p><p>‘Fun as in –’</p><p>‘Was losing your brain the trade-off for getting such a pretty face? Or do I have to spell it out?’</p><p>Connor felt his face heat uncharacteristically. ‘I’m just not used to people being so, um, forward.’</p><p>She put her hand on his chest, hooking a couple of fingers around a shirt button. ‘May have to get used to it, babe. It’s college. There’re no classes yet. And what else do we have to do?’</p><p>She stepped closer, almost so that they rubbed against each other. He wondered if she thought that this was seductive. He wondered if he thought it was working.</p><p>‘My friends are…’</p><p>She wrapped an arm around his neck. ‘Your friends are…?’</p><p>‘Not here right now.’</p><p>Well, why not? He’d not had sex in months. Not since –</p><p>She kissed him, wetly, on the lips. Their detachment was fortunately swift. Then she smirked at him. The courtship stage was apparently over.</p><p>‘My dorm is nearby.’</p><p>He supposed that it would be rude to refuse.</p>
<hr/><p>Connor rolled over onto his back, breathing slightly heavily. He closed his eyes and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his left wrist. With a little sigh, he settled his head into the pillow, only to suddenly find it pulled away.</p><p>‘OK. You can go now.’</p><p>Connor blinked his eyes open, and turned his head to look at the dark shape of the girl. ‘What?’</p><p>‘I said, you can go now.’ She shifted across the bed. ‘My roommate said she’d text me when she was heading back, but I don’t think you’ve got very long.’</p><p>‘Oh.’ Connor swung his legs out of the warm (and slightly sweaty) bed. ‘I’ll be going, then…’</p><p>‘Yeah. Don’t forget your socks.’ She turned away to face the wall.</p><p>Connor felt around for his clothes. He wished he hadn’t let her undress him. ‘Uh, can I turn a light on?’</p><p>‘If you must.’</p><p>He felt around for the bedside lamp, and switched it on. The large mirror reflecting him, naked, holding a pair of her underwear, did nothing to lessen his embarrassment.</p><p>‘Will you –’</p><p>‘I’m envisaging us never crossing paths again. That was enjoyable. You are competent. Now, go.’</p><p>And so he went, as quickly as he could.</p>
<hr/><p>Tuesday. Academic orientation. Pretty boring.</p><p>‘Sorry for waking you last night when I came in – Tony and I stayed pretty late at that party.’</p><p>‘I barely remember waking up. You had fun?’</p><p>‘Oh, yeah. Tony’s great.’ Matt frowned. ‘But where did you go? We just lost you after a while. Tony thought maybe you’d gone to the loo, but then you never reappeared.’</p><p>‘Oh, I just went to bed. Sorry I couldn’t find you afterwards. It was a bit wild.’</p><p>Technically true.</p><p>‘And there I thought jocks were all party animals. But all the practices just mean that you have to be tucked up in bed by nine.’</p><p>‘Shut up.’</p><p>‘Should I start reading you bedtime stories?’</p><p>‘Fuck off.’</p><p>‘Or will you be napping during the day?’</p><p>Connor side-eyed him. ‘Are we going to go on that library tour, or are you just going to mock me?’</p><p>‘I guess I can do both,’ grinned Matt.</p><p>‘Come on. I said we’d meet Tony outside.’</p>
<hr/><p>The library tour had ended back in the main square, where a guy with rainbow nails had been handing out flyers for another welcome party, and Connor had taken one, mostly out of politeness, and then he’d decided to go – perhaps to prove Matt wrong – and, in essence, the events of the previous night had repeated themselves in (almost) the exact same way, and here he was, with a bit of glitter in his hair, pushing a guy up against the back of a bathroom door.</p><p>He had to admit to being rather more enthusiastic about this version. He broke off the kiss, his lips feeling a little puffy, and let the guy put his hands around his waist, and grinned shyly, as he felt his fingers wander a little lower. He leaned in for another kiss.</p><p>‘You ever done this before?’ the guy asked, once Connor had stopped occupying his mouth.</p><p>‘Not with a guy, no.’</p><p>‘Well, it’s similar, but not the same.’ The guy looked at Connor. ‘Are you nervous?’</p><p>Connor shook his head, eyes bright. ‘Pretty excited, actually.’</p><p>‘Cool. Well, college is all about learning.’ Pushing Connor back a little, the guy dropped to his knees, and started undoing Connor’s belt. ‘I’ll show you how it’s done, and then you can return the favour, OK?’</p><p>‘Absolutely.’ Connor looked down, and frowned. ‘Here – do you need me to help you –’</p>
<hr/><p>Brushing his teeth, Connor reflected on his evening.</p><p>It had been very interesting. He had been quite surprised at how natural it had felt. How into it he’d been. Even if the actual event had turned out to be pretty disappointing.</p><p>For all that that guy had been full of himself, Connor wasn’t convinced that he’d had the best education with him. The guy had mostly just been caught up in explaining what a good lover he was, and, to be frank, Connor had had more satisfying times on his own, as you might say. That guy just seemed to treat it like a race. But maybe that was a medical issue…</p><p>He shook his head. It was hardly like he knew what he was doing. But a least he didn’t brag about it beforehand.</p><p>He spat the toothpaste into the sink, and watched it wash away.</p><p>Still, you had to start somehow, and developing a list of things not to do was as much a part of learning as anything.</p>
<hr/><p>On Wednesday, he met Denise.</p><p>After the societies fair, where Matt had cajoled him into joining Cine Club, he was at the stalls selling stuff for people’s dorms. Matt was off getting them some plants. He was looking at the posters. He flipped through them, nose slightly wrinkled.</p><p>‘Do you know <em>Buffy</em>?’ He looked round to see a short girl with bushy hair sucking on one of the free lollipops that the college debate club had been handing out. Why, he didn’t know.</p><p>‘Of course.’</p><p>‘Do you remember that bit when she goes to college, and the vampires are killing freshmen, and then they guess –’</p><p>‘Whether they’ve got a Klimt or Monet?’</p><p>‘Yeah.’ She stood next to him, and looked at the posters he was flipping through. ‘Never thought that those were actually the options.’</p><p>‘Yeah. Hmm.’ He looked sideways at her. ‘My roommate tells me that I need something to liven up my side of the room.’ He pulled out a poster of a boy in wings stepping over a suit of armour. ‘What do you think?’</p><p>‘It’s definitely a statement. Though it’s a statement of “I have a picture of a naked child on my wall”.’</p><p>‘Maybe not, then.’ He picked up another one. ‘Oh, I do like this one.’ A woman in grey sat at one of a bed, looking nervously at a bright ring of light at the other end of the room.</p><p>‘It’s definitely striking. What’s it of, do you reckon?’</p><p>‘The Annunciation, I guess?’</p><p>‘The what?’</p><p>‘When the angel Gabriel visited the Virgin Mary to tell her she was pregnant.’</p><p>‘Oh, right. Is the light the angel, then?’</p><p>‘Yeah.’</p><p>‘Cool.’</p><p>‘Mmm. I’ll take it.’ He went around the row of the tables, and showed it to the man running the store. It was apparently discounted because no-one wanted it. Score!</p><p>After paying, and rolling it up in his bag, he turned away to find the young woman still there, still sucking on her lollipop, and still staring at him.</p><p>‘Sorry, now that’s done, er, who are you?’</p><p>‘Denise.’</p><p>‘Connor.’</p><p>She smiled broadly. ‘Do you like art?’</p><p>‘I don’t really know much about it. I like things that make me look twice.’</p><p>‘Do you think your roommate will like what you’ve picked?’</p><p>‘I suppose he’ll have to.’ He paused. ‘How are you finding your first days at Samwell.’</p><p>‘Good. I just keep meeting new people.’</p><p>‘Um. Yep. That’s definitely a feature.’ Denise seemed a bit strange, in Connor’s opinion.</p><p>‘Shall we try to be friends?’</p><p>‘What? Why? We don’t know each other.’</p><p>‘Well, that’s pretty much the point, isn’t it? Hey, if you want, we can try it for a while, and if it doesn’t work we can hang out with all those other friends we’ve got.’</p><p>‘My roommate is around here somewhere. Buying plants.’</p><p>‘How domestic. And the others?’</p><p>‘Oh, they exist. Somewhere in the future.’                       </p><p>‘Mmm. So we may as well start being friends now.’</p><p>‘I’m sure that’s how friendships work.’</p><p>‘Anyway, you seem interesting. And you like –’ she craned her neck to read one his flyers upside down ‘– singing. And I like theatre.’</p><p>‘Oh no. Not one of those people...’</p><p>‘Oh, only backstage.’</p><p>Connor eyed her. ‘Marginally better.’</p><p>She looped an arm into his. ‘Great! Now, let’s go make fun of the people joining the political societies.’</p><p>‘They’re not all bad.’</p><p>She raised an eyebrow into her bushy hair. ‘I bet you an adorable pot plant that there aren’t five who’re not hollow dead-eyed shells of people.’</p><p>Connor snorted. ‘You’re on.’</p><p>Denise chattered all the way across the societies’ fair, and, somewhere along the way, managed to Connor chatting back. By the time they reached the Young Republicans (‘Fine. What kind of plant were you thinking of?’), it was hard for Matt to imagine that they’d only just met.</p>
<hr/><p>Big Gay Experience 2.0 had happened on the Thursday, and Connor had to say that it was a lot more satisfying. After two fairly underwhelming goes at it, he seemed finally to have struck it lucky. This guy had really known what he was doing.</p><p>Yeah. Where had this been until now? Heterosexuals missed out on so much. It was just so much fun. He pushed the thought to the side that that might have at least in part been due to it happening between two people who were interested in sex for mutual pleasure, rather than just one of them trying to get an orgasm off the other, and was less to do with actual mechanics of the act. He was going to give his prostate this victory. It got so little attention most of the rest of the time. Whatever the hell it actually did.</p><p>When he woke up, things had been unfamiliar. Well, more unfamiliar than normal. The light from the window was in a different place, which was the first thing he noticed. Then there was the feel of the mattress, which was a lot springier than the one he was newly used to. And there was the warm presence of someone behind him, of course. He suspected that he – and he’d known without looking that it was a he, even without the bother of remembering – was awake, because when Connor had woken up he’d accidentally kicked him. But he hadn’t yet said anything.</p><p>Connor was happy to lie there quietly for a bit. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever woken up with someone before. Not even with his girlfriend. Too much worrying about being caught by either set of parents. But maybe there’d been a time when that had happened. But this was quite a nice feeling.</p><p>He watched the clock on the other side of the room tick round for a little while 7:50. 7:51. He listened to the breathing of the person behind him. 7:52.</p><p>Feeling the guy shift a little, Connor reaching back to take his hand, and guided it onto his hip, where it ran up and down over the bump of the bone a few times, before squeezing the outer side where it met his thighbone very gently. He leaned back into the guy’s chest, and tried to remember if they’d exchanged names.</p><p>‘Morning…’ he murmured. ‘I’m Connor.’</p><p>‘I know,’ came a soft voice.</p><p>Connor racked his brain. ‘Um.’</p><p>‘I’m Eamonn.’ The voice behind him was warm, amused. ‘Just in case you’d forgotten. Which I’m sure you haven’t.’</p><p>‘Oh, no, a deep and meaningful connection was made.’</p><p>He felt a pair of lips on his shoulder blade. ‘More than once, as I recall.’</p><p>Connor felt himself flush, and he rolled over. Nice, considerate, good in bed, <em>and</em> good-looking. Last night’s Connor had been on excellent and hitherto unknown form. ‘Er. Thanks.’</p><p>Eamonn’s kissed Connor’s forehead. ‘Takes two to do it.’</p><p>Connor bit his lip. ‘Sorry if I was – I haven’t – that was my first time. With a guy. Well, with a guy like <em>that</em>.’</p><p>The guy laughed. ‘Nothing to apologise for Connor. And there wouldn’t have been a problem even if things had gone badly wrong. Which they didn’t, I assure you. No-one’s perfect at anything on their first go. As long as you’re both having fun and enjoying each other’s company. There aren’t marks out of ten.’</p><p>Connor grinned crookedly. ‘Shame. I’m a competitive guy.’</p><p>‘Really.’ Eamonn’s eyes flicked down Connor’s body, half covered by the sheet. ‘Pretty skinny for a jock. You do track, or something?’</p><p>‘Hockey.’                                                </p><p>‘Oh. Huh. Wouldn’t have had you pegged as that.’</p><p>‘It’s true. I go to hockey practices and everything.’</p><p>‘Even before the semester starts?’</p><p>‘Yeah. Had one on Tuesday, and there’s another one Friday morning. Breaking us in –’ His eyes went wide, and he shot out of the bed. ‘Oh, shit – I’ve got to go!’ He pulled on his boxers and jeans at the same time, staring in horror at the clock, and then shoved his head into his shirt. ‘This <em>is </em>Friday morning – I should have been at practice like ten minutes ago! Really, really sorry!’ By the time he popped out of the top, the guy was holding out a post-it note, and smiling.</p><p>‘Not the morning I had planned with you, but call me. I had a good time. I hope you did too.’</p><p>Connor leaned in to kiss him, firmly, on the lips, his bare feet searching for his shoes under the bed at the same time. He smiled, bashful. ‘I really did. Will let you know.’</p>
<hr/><p>‘Are you OK, Whiskey?’ asked Tango.</p><p>Connor tried not to wince. This was definitely learning the hard way what kind of activities were detrimental the night before playing hockey. ‘I’m fine.’</p><p>He had been quite pleased that he’d managed to launch himself onto the ice as the captains were just wrapping up their pre-training speech. There’d been eye-rolling, and maybe some sniggering, but he did all the warm ups with them perfectly competently.</p><p>But he’d not anticipated it hurting like this. Still, worth it, in his opinion.</p><p>He thought that he’d been hiding it pretty well, but he was reconsidering that, now that he could see that Bitty was looking at him really strangely. That was the last thing he needed. He was not coming out to his team. Not this side of his professional retirement.</p><p>‘Right guys,’ said Ransom. ‘Time to introduce all the tadpoles to the trademark Zimmerman hockey drill circuit!’</p><p>‘This is going to be so cool!’ whispered Tango.</p><p>Judging by the groans, sighs, and resigned facial expressions, Connor suspected that it really wasn’t.</p><p><em>Ow</em>.</p>
<hr/><p>Saturday morning. 8:00. Well, 8:07.</p><p>Connor opened his dorm room door gingerly. He stuck his head in. Huh. Curtains were open. Both beds were made. No sign of anyone having been here at all last night.</p><p>He picked his towel up from where it was hanging on the end of his bed, and then took his wash bag with him to the bathroom at the end of the hall. If he was up, then he may as well have his shower now.</p><p>In the bathroom, he kicked off his shoes, then his shirt, and then looked in the mirror. He looked tired, dark bags under his eyes. It was his own doing. His first week of college was proving very busy, day and night. At least his new sheets were going to last a long time if he never slept in them.</p><p>Stifling a yawn, he ran the tap to fill the sink with warm water, dunked his flannel into it, then wiped it across his face.</p><p>He was still getting used to shaving with a disposable razor, having had an electric one back in Arizona. He still wasn’t sure how much shaving foam you were meant to use. He was trying to be as frugal as possible, but he had nicked himself a couple of times, and it did sting a bit. Smearing the lather around his jaw, he thought he actually quite enjoyed the process. It was methodical. Quite relaxing in its own way. He hadn’t quite worked out the proper way of shaving under his chin, or below his nose, without pulling the hairs the wrong way, but he was learning –</p><p>
  <em>Shit!</em>
</p><p>He pulled his top lip into his mouth, eyes smarting. Oops. His hand had wobbled and taken a tiny slice into his top lip. Wincing, he pouted at the mirror to see the miniature cut welling with blood. Lips were the most sensitive part of the body, he’d read once. He took a piece of toilet paper and balled it up against the cut, pressing hard to stop the bleeding. No harm done.</p><p>Still holding the paper in place, he finished off the rest of his face with one hand, and then wiped the remainder of the lather off. By the time he was tweaking the last splodge from the top of his ear, everything was back to normal. He cleaned the razor, and then looked at himself again. Nice and neat. Good.</p><p>He let his eyes travel down his body. He smiled. Well, why wouldn’t he? Even his collarbone was an attractive shape. Slim, smooth, and hairless down to his waist, he was paling slightly, away from the constant sun, but otherwise pretty much the same as ever.</p><p>He massaged a distinctive oval mark on his left shoulder. Best to keep those in unseeable places on his body for now…</p><p>He turned away from the mirror, and turned on the shower. No such luck with finding a bath, unfortunately. As he waited for the water pressure to more fully engage, he took off the rest of his clothes, then stepped into the water. Maybe he would wash his hair as well.</p><p>Afterwards, he was fully dressed and reading on his bed, his hair almost dry, by the time the door-lock beeped, and Matt shyly looked around the door. He blushed when he saw Connor.</p><p>‘Sorry I didn’t come back last night.’ He rubbed the back of his neck, and looked at the wall. ‘I, uh, met this girl…’</p><p>‘Oh, no, that’s fine.’ Connor laughed a bit. ‘No need to let me know every time you’re stopping over somewhere else… We can get an unexpected single every now and again. I won’t mind that.’</p><p>Matt smiled sheepishly. ‘Yeah, I guess so. But, uh, if either of us were to, uh, bring someone back –’</p><p>‘We’ll have to devise some kind of signal.’ Connor waggled his eyebrows. ‘Are you expecting this to become a regular thing?’</p><p>Matt went even redder than before. ‘I – I’m not sure yet.’</p><p>Connor smirked. ‘Well, go shower, and then tell me all about it.’</p><p>Scarlet to his ears, Matt nodded, and bustled out of the room.</p>
<hr/><p>‘Hey, sorry man – can we talk a minute?’</p><p>Connor turned, puzzled. It was the guy who usually sat across the aisle from him in Econ I.</p><p>‘Um. Sure.’</p><p>‘This is going to sound a bit weird, but, uh, I’m on one of the sports teams, and we’ve got, like, hazing today, and as part of it we have to bring someone from class back to the frat house. Would you, er, be willing to help out?’</p><p>Connor looked up at them. They must have been almost a foot taller than him. ‘That does sound a bit weird.’</p><p>‘I’m sorry, I can ask someone else –’</p><p>Connor raised any eyebrow. ‘Do you even know anyone in our class?’</p><p>‘Er. No.’</p><p>‘Then I’ll help you.’ He shrugged. ‘I really have nothing on this evening.’</p><p>‘You sure, man?’ The guy’s face lit up. ‘That would be swell.’</p><p>‘What will I have to do?’</p><p>‘Oh, nothing, I don’t think. There’ll probably be drinking that you can join in, but all the humiliation will be directed at me.’</p><p>Connor raised an eyebrow. ‘If I end up a toilet-paper mummy, then I’m sabotaging all your assignments for the rest of the semester.’</p><p>‘Oh, I can guarantee you won’t.’ The guy frowned. ‘Well, basically…’</p><p>Connor rolled his eyes. ‘Do I come to them, or do you have to physically take me?’</p><p>‘Pretty sure you just have to be at the house at 8. I think there’s things that I have to do first.’</p><p>‘OK, then. What team are you even on?’</p><p>The guy puffed his chest out. ‘Lacrosse.’</p><p>Connor let a smile pull at his lips. ‘Is that so...’</p><p>The guy looked at little sheepish. ‘Yeah. Look, it could be worse – it could be the hockey team.’</p><p>Connor snorted.</p><p>‘Have you heard about them?’</p><p>‘I’m slightly familiar with them, yes…’</p><p>‘Real stuck-up bunch of pricks, apparently.’ The guy nodded his head a few times. ‘Right – I gotta go to my next class. Thanks <em>so</em> much for this! See you!’ </p><p>Connor checked his phone. He deleted the message he’d got from Tango that morning asking if he was going to Bitty’s film and baking night.</p><p>When he looked up, the guy was back.</p><p>‘My name’s Chad, by the way – bye!’</p><p>Connor blinked. Tonight was going to be interesting.</p>
<hr/><p>OK, so he already had a reputation for being taciturn.</p><p>He preferred to watch things happen, rather than take part in them. He’d always been that way. You watched, you analysed, you worked out what the best thing to do was. Then you did it. You did it without fuss, without drawing attention to you doing it, if possible, and you did it as cleanly and efficiently as you could. It’s how he played hockey, too. Watch, think, act. Just, faster, he supposed.</p><p>People like Ransom and Holster liked people to notice them. They liked being watched.</p><p>So did Bitty, in a slightly different way.</p><p>And the dropping of dry one-liners into conversations. It’s how he shared the love.</p><p>But he got the feeling that, apart from Tango, no-one else on the team was over-fond of him. And they hadn’t even got to their first game.</p><p>Particularly not their captains.</p><p>‘Hey, Whiskey, why so many yawns?’</p><p>‘Yeah,’ chimed in Ransom. ‘Is practice not exciting enough for you?’</p><p>‘’Cause we can make it more exciting. Swap you with Chowder.’</p><p>‘You can see what it’s like being on the receiving end of overconfident forwards.’</p><p>‘Sorry – I – I’m just really tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.’</p><p>‘I know.’</p><p>‘Yeah, I just said…?’</p><p>‘Because we came to take our tadpoles out for a team-building surprise early-morning jog –’</p><p>‘United in hatred. We shoulder that burden.’</p><p>‘- and a certain Mr Grumpy Tadpole was nowhere to be found. And we pissed off his roommate no end.’</p><p>Poor Matt. ‘Is there a point to this?’</p><p>‘Well, where were you?’ asked Holster.</p><p>Connor crossed his arms. ‘I don’t really see how that’s your business.’</p><p>‘It is our business if you having a girlfriend means that you play sloppily at practice and skip team activities. Bad practice leads to bad play.’</p><p>‘Now, you might have been the best hockey player in your state –’</p><p>‘(Though, given that that state is Arizona, we might take a check on what that’s worth.)’</p><p>‘- and you might have let your natural talent lull you into overconfidence. But don’t think that you can slack off and let that talent catch you. Because focus and teamwork are what counts, far more than raw skill.’</p><p>‘And, you know, Chowder manages a relationship and hockey.’</p><p>‘Because, talking to you roommate –’</p><p>‘– and he seemed very happy to spill the beans –’</p><p>‘– you hardly ever spend the night in your own room. So it must be pretty serious.’</p><p>‘Which is cool, and all – but you’ve got to keep things in proportion, you know?’</p><p>‘Don’t burn out in your first semester.’</p><p>‘We don’t want to rag on you –’</p><p>‘We don’t wanna’ be that kind of captain –’</p><p>‘But you’ve got to make sure you’ve got your priorities right. You’re promising – and we don’t want to lose you.’</p><p>He didn’t really know what they wanted to hear. ‘Yeah. You’re right.’ Best to go with what people always wanted to hear.</p><p>Holster smiled and slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Good, kid.’</p><p>‘Can I go shower now?’</p><p>‘One more thing. We hear reports of you hanging around with members of the lacrosse team.’</p><p>‘Do we need to remind you of by-law #13?’</p><p>‘Are you serious?’</p><p>‘They by-laws are sacred, Whiskey.’</p><p>Connor rolled his eyes, and pushed past them to the empty showers.</p><p>‘We’ll assume that is a ‘yes’!’ they chorused.</p><p>Connor just kept walking until he got to his usual cubicle. Stripping off, he put the water on and stepped under it, not particularly caring that it was still cold. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.</p><p>He missed one surprise jog that he had no idea was even a possibility, and missed a couple of passes. And it was like he’d gone on a self-destructive bender. Did he have to clear his social life with his captains? Text Holster every time he put on a condom? Go back to his dorm room in the middle of the night just in case they should take it upon themselves for another unanticipateable team bonding exercise? Fuck that.</p><p>He shut off the water with a sudden, angry, movement, and then shook his head quickly to spray the water out of his hair.</p><p>And trying to say who he could and couldn’t be friends with based on a stupid rivalry? He’d thought that had been a <em>joke</em>. Fuck that fucking bullshit.</p><p>He pulled his towel around him, and went back through the changing room, now also empty.</p><p>If they hated him, then they hated him. Not his problem.         </p><p>He flung his stuff into his stall, and picked up his phone. He thought for a moment, then sent a message to Chad. M.</p><p>He had a reply before he’d even put his trousers on.</p><p>
  <em> <span class="u">yeah, but we’d only have about 20 minutes</span> </em>
</p><p>Connor smiled, with the tip of his tongue between his teeth.</p><p>
  <em>like you’d ever last long enough for that to be a problem</em>
</p><p>Connor buttoned his shirt, watching the three dots blink on the screen. Eventually –</p><p>
  <em> <span class="u">you’re on</span> </em>
</p><p>He smirked, and sent a quick message back with one hand, piling his stuff into his bag with the other. A smile quickly vanished as he caught sight of Holster’s stall as he sat down to put his shoes on. With a grunt of irritation, he got up, slung his bag over his shoulder, and stalked out of the room.</p><p>Tony was hanging around outside. He brightened as Connor came out. ‘Hey -!’</p><p>Connor walked on past, his stony expression rendering Tony silent.</p><p>‘Is everything –’</p><p>‘Yeah.’</p><p>‘It’s just that –’</p><p>‘See you later, Tony.’       </p>
<hr/><p>The fact that Zimmermann – ‘Jack’! – was there was really the only reason Connor was at this kegster. He would admit to having been quite excited to meet him, and was pleased to have worked up the courage to get him to sign a shirt.</p><p>‘I’m pretty sure that he’d sign literally anything if you asked him to, Tango.’</p><p>‘Is he your hockey hero, Whiskey?’</p><p>Connor rolled his eyes. ‘Hardly.’ <em>Yes</em>. ‘But what other NHL stars will be dropping by this backwoods Massachusetts college?’</p><p>‘Maybe loads. All his teammates probably.’</p><p>‘Mmm. Well, you can build up a collection.’</p><p>‘How come you had his shirt, anyway? I’ve never seen you with any hockey stuff. And you have, like, three outfits, max.’</p><p>Connor shrugged. He wasn’t going to admit to the crush that had occupied a part of his mind for his last year in high school. ‘He’s pretty good.’</p><p>‘Just ‘pretty good’!’ Tango shook his head. ‘He’s <em>amazing</em>!’</p><p>Connor gave him a deadpan look.</p><p>Tony sighed. ‘You need to emote more.’</p><p>Connor rolled his eyes. ‘Sure. Then he nudged Tango. ‘Hey, speaking of expressing our feelings, isn’t that that girl you like from the women’s soccer team?’</p><p>Tango went very red and pointedly looked in a different direction entirely. ‘Um. No? I don’t think so?’</p><p>‘Liar.’ Connor looked across the room, turning Tango so that it would be impossible for him to claim ignorance. ‘Look at her. All alone.’</p><p>‘Yeah…’</p><p>‘Someone should go talk to her. Make sure she’s OK. And she doesn’t even have a drink. Someone should get her one.’</p><p>‘But she’s closer to the drinks than I am.’</p><p>‘Here.’ He pushed his cup into Tango’s hand, still mostly full.</p><p>Tango frowned. ‘What?’</p><p>Connor pushed him forwards. ‘Go on. Or am I going to have to drag you over to her? Because while awkward and shy is a cute look, too afraid to act without his friend making him is, I hear, less of a turn on.’</p><p>Tony glared at him, then downed the remainder of his own drink. ‘Fine. But can I cry in your dorm when she turns me down?’</p><p>‘Sure. Now, off you go.’</p><p>Connor grinned to himself as he watched his friend work his way across the room, and very stiffly offer her the cup. Then the two of them seemed to strike up an increasingly less awkward conversation. He laughed to see Tango’s look of horror as the girl took a sip of his old drink, and then he turned away to find another cup –</p><p>‘Woah – er, hi.’</p><p>‘Really sorry!’ he said, backing away from the blonde girl he’d just run into.</p><p>‘It’s OK. Very crowded in here.’</p><p>‘Something about a celebrity guest, I hear.’</p><p>‘Who?’</p><p>‘Jack Zimmerman.’</p><p>‘Oh. Who?’</p><p>‘Big shot in the celebrity swimwear world.</p><p>‘Really?’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I was hoping to bag a hockey player. I hear they have great butts.’</p><p>Well, if Tango was on the path to getting some action, why not him? ‘Well, it just so happens that I am one.’ He turned up the wattage on his most charming smile. ‘Is there anything I can help you with?’</p>
<hr/><p>He’d not expected it to get so cold so soon. He’d come off the ice, and it would be colder than being on it. It was then that the Haus was tempting, with its heat and it people and its chatter – oh, wait. Suddenly not tempting anymore.</p><p>So instead he kicked his way along the streets, hands buried in the pockets of a coat bought quickly and cheaply and so proving quite ineffective, towards either the library or his dorm. Would it snow soon? Snow would be weird.</p><p>Three months in, now. A few games under his belt. Two assists, both to Bitty, and a goal, off Bitty. He might not be getting on with the team all that much, but he was enjoying hockey at this level. And playing on a team with people who were this good was a really excellent experience. He had to hand it to all of them – they were really good at what they did, for all the messing around and weird rituals that they had.</p><p>Ransom and Holster had been right, to an extent, that his experience playing in Arizona had been pretty different to this. He’d been well used to being the best player on the ice by some distance, and, though it was maybe a bit of an adjustment to his pride to realise that he no longer was, it made playing so much more enjoyable – relaxing, even – when the pressure and expectation didn’t always fall on you.</p><p>He’d also never played in front of so many people. Kiddie-league hockey was not a huge spectator sport, and he’d expected this to be more popular, obviously, but he’d not anticipated the sheer numbers that would turn up to a big game. He guessed the size of Faber should have tipped him off about this, but, to be honest, all he ever thought about at the rink was the ice, and the game. But it was hard to ignore the sound of so many people when you were sitting on the bench waiting for your few minutes on the ice.</p><p>He mostly played on a line with Tango. Which was good. They were good together. He sucked on his cheek. He liked Tango. He felt bad about the way he often blew him off, and then find him just as happy to see him the next day. It was just that – just that Tango liked all the team stuff, and being at the Haus, and Connor just didn’t. So hanging out with Tango meant hanging out with all the rest of them. And he wasn’t interested in that. But he didn’t know a way of saying that without being rude. Though he guessed he was being rude anyway, whether he said anything or not.</p><p>He stopped, and turned. Back to his dorm. But – he reached into his pocket for his phone.</p><p>He was about halfway home when he felt it vibrate.</p><p>
  <em>Yes! I’m here!</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Parents’ weekend. Connor was glad that he wasn’t the only one without his parents visiting. People accepted that Arizona was a long way to come from for a short time, just as they did with Chowder’s parents.</p><p>Tony was excited about seeing his mom, though. He did talk about her a lot, and it seemed that they were very close. ‘My dad died when I was small. It’s always just been me and Mom.’</p><p>‘I’m sorry.’</p><p>Tango shrugged. ‘I don’t remember him at all. Obviously I wish I had known him, or that he was still alive, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s just an absence. It’s still painful for Mom, though. I don’t think she’ll ever have another relationship.’</p><p>‘Well, maybe now you’re out of her hair…’</p><p>‘Hey!’ Tango made to punch him on the arm, but Connor skipped out of the way. ‘That’s my mom you’re talking about!’</p><p>Connor laughed.</p><p>‘How would you like it if I speculated on what your parents were doing with you two and a half thousand miles away?’</p><p>Connor’s face fell at that.</p><p>‘Not so funny now, is it?’ smirked Tony. ‘Anyway, I’m sure my mom would love to meet you!’</p><p>‘Well, we’ll just have to play extra well for her.’ Connor looked round at his friend. ‘Is she coming up before the game, or is she staying in Samwell after?’</p><p>‘Oh, she’s staying the night.’ Tango grinned. ‘I’d love for you to meet her after the game!’</p><p>Connor nodded. ‘Of course.’</p><p>‘I hope I can score a goal, or even just get an assist, when she’s here.’</p><p>Connor nudged him. ‘Well, now I just have to help you make that happen.’</p>
<hr/><p>Connor was going to leave his teammates to be with their parents, and slip quietly out of Faber. He didn’t feel that it was his place to hang around. He would only get awkward questions. So, time to –</p><p>‘Whiskey! Wait! Where are you going?’</p><p>He turned round. Tango was hurtling down the corridor towards him, a woman (tall, short brown hair, resigned but affectionate expression) whom he presumed was his mom in his wake. He vaguely recognised her. ‘Home…?’</p><p>‘I want you to meet my mom!’ He grinned. ‘Mom, this is Whisk – Connor.’</p><p>‘Hi.’ Connor nodded to her.</p><p>‘I’m Angela.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’</p><p>‘Oh?’</p><p>‘Oh, yes, Tony talks about you all the time. You were really very good out there. Tony has not been exaggerating.’</p><p>Connor blushed. ‘I just try to make the most of getting to play. We don’t get a lot of ice time, as freshmen.’</p><p>‘Oh, I think you’ll be getting quite a bit. That goal was impressive.’</p><p>He dipped his head. ‘Thanks. Tango – Tony – had a great assist, too.’</p><p>‘Are your parents not here?’</p><p>‘Mom…’ Tango’s eyes flicked to him, slightly worried.</p><p>‘No. They’re in Arizona.’</p><p>‘Oh, well – would you like to come to dinner with us?’</p><p>‘Uh – I couldn’t possibly – this is for you and Tony – family –’</p><p>‘Nonsense. You’re more than welcome to join us. What were your plans for this evening, anyway? To go home and pretend everyone else wasn’t with their parents?’</p><p>‘Um. I have a delicious, er…’</p><p>‘Snack pot?’</p><p>‘Um.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Something better than that, I’m sure.’</p><p>She raised an unconvinced eyebrow. Ouch. So that’s what it was like.</p><p>Tango beamed. ‘It’d be great if you could join us!’</p><p>‘Are you sure it wouldn’t be intruding?’</p><p>‘No, I want to find out about Tony’s college life.’</p><p>Tony suddenly went very red behind her.</p><p>‘Oh, well, if you put it like that…’ said Connor, starting to smile a little.</p><p>‘Good – now, do either of you know where’s good to eat?’</p><p>‘Other than the canteen, no…’ said Tango.</p>
<hr/><p>They had ended up in a small Italian restaurant that seemed basically designed to accommodate parents and their children. Nice, but also not that expensive.</p><p>He’d hung back a bit as Tango and his mom had walked together, chatting about the game, and things that had changed back in – he thought Plymouth? – since Tango had come to Samwell. There appeared to have been some minor hoo-ha about a lighthouse. But now they were inside, and Tango and his mum were on chairs on one side of the table, and Connor was on an overly-squishy banquette on the other, and he didn’t really know what to do or say, other than try feebly not to be swallowed up by his seat.</p><p>To cover his awkwardness, he took a breadstick and broke it into increasingly small pieces, and tried to think of something to break the silence that settled around them. He looked intensely at the menu, wondering why they offered the same sauce with four different types of pasta.</p><p>When he looked up, he found that they were both staring at him. ‘Um. Hi.’ It was like he was being interviewed for something.</p><p>Angela smiled. ‘Do you have any siblings, Connor? Your family must be one of the only things Tony hasn’t spoken to me about.’</p><p>‘A brother.’ Connor folded his arms, pushing the menu away to do so.</p><p>‘And is he –?’</p><p>‘He’s older than me.’</p><p>‘What’s it like having siblings?’ asked Tango.</p><p>‘It was good. We’d do all sorts of things together as kids.’ He shrugged. ‘Not so much as we grew up, but maybe that’s to be expected.’ He sucked on his lips. ‘So, uh, North Carolina? What’s that like?’</p><p>‘Swampy,’ said Tony. ‘But tell me more about your br–’</p><p>‘Hi – can take your order?’</p><p>As if by magic, a waitress appeared.</p>
<hr/><p>As soon as Tony left the table, and was out of earshot, Connor leaned forwards, lowering his voice. ‘You really didn’t have to –’</p><p>She held up a hand, and Connor felt compelled to stop talking. ‘You seem to have been a really big help to Tony over these last few months. I was worried that he’d have trouble fitting in. He’s not the best in new situations. And I had my doubts about him coping on his own. But you seem to be a grounding influence on him.’</p><p>‘Oh, uh, I wouldn’t go that far. I look out for him, I guess, because he’s my friend.’</p><p>Connor felt another of his pangs of guilt at how he wasn’t always in interested in what Tony was doing as Tony was in what he was doing.</p><p>‘You seem very calm. Together. Stable.’</p><p>The fact that he’d probably spent as many nights out of his bed as in it probably spoke against that, but she, of course, didn’t know that. And neither did Tony. Connor shrugged. ‘I’m just quiet. That hardly guarantees that I’m a good influence.’ He smiled slightly. ‘Quite the reverse…’</p><p>Angela did another one of her impressive eyebrow raises. Connor wondered if he should ask for tips. ‘Do I want to know in what ways?’</p><p>Connor glanced over towards the bathroom, where Tony was just coming out. ‘Um. Maybe not…’</p><p>She laughed brightly, then leaned in. ‘I doubt the mother of any boy has wanted to know what he does when she’s not around.’</p><p>Connor flushed. ‘I – I couldn’t –’</p><p>‘Oh, and I won’t be asking. I’ve taught him the things he needs to know about relationships, and respect, and safety, so I’m not worried – but, can I trust you Connor to just keep an eye out? You probably know by now that – that he’s a very open book.’</p><p>He nodded. ‘Yeah. Of course.’ He smiled very slightly. ‘But don’t expect me to report back everything he does.’</p><p>‘Hey, guys!’ said Tony, dropping into his seat again. ‘What are you talking about?’</p><p>‘Your sex life,’ said Connor, dryly.</p><p>‘See,’ said Tony, turning to his mom, ‘what did I tell you? He never says anything that’s not sarcastic!’</p>
<hr/><p>Nursey, bundled up in his parka, was hurrying from the library to the dorm. God, places that weren’t big, warm cities were a physical trial. Yeah, he played a winter sport. On ice. Whatever. Shut up.</p><p>It was better when Dex was here. Fighting kept you warm. But he was the only one on the team still around.</p><p>Then he saw a familiar haircut. Huh?</p><p>‘Whiskey?’</p><p>The haircut seemed to freeze, then bobbed away a little more quickly. Nursey rolled his eyes.</p><p>‘Oi! Whiskey!’</p><p>He hurried after him.</p><p>‘I know it’s you. And you might be fast on the ice, but I’ve got longer legs than you, and –’</p><p>The little squeal that he let out as he slipped and went flying was totally dignified. Well, at least it got Whiskey to stop and turn around, if only to look coolly unimpressed.</p><p>‘And?’</p><p>He did not seem inclined to help Nursey up, so with perhaps exaggerated effort, Nursey got to his feet. He brushed the slush off his knees, and winced as he examined his scraped hands.</p><p>Whiskey continue to stare impassively at him. ‘You OK?’</p><p>‘Yeah, I’m fine.’</p><p>‘Good.’ Whiskey turned on his heel.</p><p>‘Wait up!’ Nursey put a hand on his shoulder, which Whiskey immediately twisted away from.</p><p>‘What?’ he snapped.</p><p>‘You don’t go home during the holidays?’</p><p>‘No, I do, this is just a hallucination. Lay off the drugs.’</p><p>‘Uh. Yeah. But –’</p><p>Whiskey walked away.</p><p>‘Wait!’</p><p>‘Am. Not. Here.’</p><p>‘Ha! – you can’t get away from me that easily!’ Nursey caught up with him, and matched his stride. ‘So, you here to finish some stuff up before you go home? Because that’s keen for your first semester as a freshman.’</p><p>‘No.’</p><p>‘Or couldn’t you get a flight straight away? Do they even fly straight from Boston to Tucson?’</p><p>‘No. They don’t. But that’s not the reason. I could get a flight fine.’</p><p>‘Oh – so when are you –’</p><p>Whiskey stopped. ‘Look. I’m not going home for Christmas. I ca– they wou-- I’m just not, OK?’ Whiskey looked at him, his face surprisingly open, uncharacteristically vulnerable. ‘And I’d appreciate it if you’d just drop it.’</p><p>Nursey nodded, feeling slightly ashamed of himself for pushing it in such a flippant way. ‘Of course.’ He patted Whiskey’s shoulder. ‘It’s chill.’</p><p>Whiskey looked small, just for a moment. Crumpled. He could only be a year younger than Nursey was, but he suddenly seemed like it was much more than that. Then his face and shoulders, almost as if on autopilot, reset themselves, the shutters came down, and the worried child had disappeared again. ‘Why are you here, then?’</p><p>‘Oh, my parents are out of the country. They’ll be back at New Year, though, so I’ll go back a day or two before then. I thought I’d use the time to polish up some work.’</p><p>‘Ah. Right. Cool.’</p><p>Whiskey went silent again, his eyes wandering, not looking towards Nursey. After a while he shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Well, I’m going back to my dorm. If I see you around –’ He shrugged.</p><p>Nursey nodded. ‘Yeah. Will see you.’</p><p>Whiskey half turned to go, nodding awkwardly.</p><p>Nursey wondered what his moms would say in this situation. ‘Hey, Whiskey?’ Whiskey twisted is head back slightly. ‘While you’re here, and I’m here, we can hang out, if you like. You don’t have to be here on your own.’</p><p>Connor hesitated. ‘Um. Thanks.’ He looked back fully at Nursey. ‘I’ll, er, think about it.’</p><p>‘Chill.’</p><p>He watched him go. The kid was hard work. But he hoped he’d take him up on his offer.</p>
<hr/><p>Connor had often thought about taking Nursey up on his offer. But each day it got dark, and he still hadn’t arranged to see him. It wasn’t like he was even doing anything.</p><p>The days got even shorter, and then the shortest, and then it was Christmas Eve. And there he was, sitting at his desk, light on, not really having noticed that the sun had set quite some time ago. He rubbed his eyes and stared out across the campus, lit only by streetlamps, and those very few people who were still here. He rested his chin on his hand. Who were they, he wondered. Why were they here?</p><p>Christmas Eve. Huh. Not the one he’d imagined this time last year. He looked over to the corkboard where he’d pinned his four cards. He wondered if any of them would pick up if he called. He checked the time. Probably not. They’d all be doing something with their families. He sat there for a few minutes more, trying to decide what would best fill his evening. He tapped his hand idly on top of the neatly-wrapped present that Matt had given him. He hoped that his roommate liked the old edition of Sartre’s plays he’d found in a second-hand bookstore. He bounced his left leg up and down several times.</p><p>Fuck it.</p><p>He stood up, pulled on his coat, scooped his gloves (Denise, it turned out, liked knitting) from his desk, and hurried out of the dorms. He was going to see Nursey.</p><p>He was a little breathless and his teeth were chattering by the time he was squinting in the dark at the buzzers and trying to remember which was Nursey’s room. 14, he thought. He pressed it. He waited. No answer. He pressed it again. Still nothing.</p><p>Huh.</p><p>He hit his hands against his hips, trying to warm them through his gloves. Maybe it hadn’t been 14? 15?</p><p>He pushed the button. He waited.</p><p>Nope. He looked up at the building, all its windows ominously dark. At least there seemed no chance of pissing off any of Nursey’s neighbours. Try 13?</p><p>No answer. Typical. He winced. Should he go? Or –</p><p>Taking one of his gloves off, he got his phone out of his pocket. Fingers already slightly numb, he scrolled through his contacts.</p><p>‘Nursey’. No existing conversations. ‘Say ‘hi!’.</p><p>Yeah, right.</p><p>
  <span class="u">What room are you?</span>
</p><p>The response was reassuringly quick.</p><p>
  <em>14.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>why?</em>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">I’m outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>Ah – headed back to NY yesterday</em>
</p><p>
  <em>worried abt the snow</em>
</p><p>
  <em>sorry to miss you</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Happy Christmas</em>
</p><p>Happy Christmas.</p><p>Yeah. Well, that, Connor, was what you got for being an antisocial git.</p><p>
  <span class="u">No problem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">Should have checked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">Happy Christmas.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>Take care of yourself.</em>
</p><p>Connor put his glove back on. Back to the dorm. He supposed that that text exchange was a significant step-up in communication with others.</p><p>His phone buzzed again.</p><p>
  <em>Oh. There’s some stuff in the Haus</em>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>You know how to get in, right?</em>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">No. I don’t have a key.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>No-one showed you?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>np – front porch, loose floorboard third on the left</em>
</p><p>
  <em>spare key</em>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">Oh. Thanks.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>give me a ring if you need</em>
</p><p>
  <em>not just about the key, but you know</em>
</p><p>
  <em>any stuff</em>
</p><p>Connor blinked. Hmm.</p><p>
  <span class="u">Will let you know</span>
</p><p>Um. What now?</p><p>
  <span class="u">Thanks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">Again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>really no problem</em>
</p><p>
  <em>sorry we couldn’t meet up</em>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">Yeah. Sorry. Stuff came up.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>are you still outside my dorms</em>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">Yeah.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>go inside somewhere idiot</em>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">Going. Night, Nursey.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>g’night Whiskey</em>
</p><p>Nursey was right. And it was really fucking freezing out here.</p><p>But what could be at the Haus? For him?</p><p>He didn’t think that he’d been into the Haus more than half a dozen times since that first visit. Maybe even including that first visit.</p><p>He hurried through the streets to the Haus. Also starkly empty and dark. Up the steps, and – one – two – three – wobble. Was this really secure in any way? He bent down and pried it up. He peered through the darkness to see the key lying beneath it. Then he took it, and unlocked the door.</p><p>It was weirdly quiet inside. He felt along the wall for where he thought the light switch was. Other side…</p><p>Blinking in the light, he looked around the room. Nothing out of the ordinary. He closed the front door behind him, and, despite himself, felt a little creeped out by the place. He turned and locked it.</p><p>He went down the corridor to the kitchen. Weird to go here without Bitty. He wondered if the oven was maybe sentient. He flicked on the light. On the kitchen table were three presents, not very well wrapped, and an envelope.</p><p>He opened it, and frowned at the picture of a horse ridden by Santa on the card. ‘Mare –y Christmas!’</p><p>
  <em>W –</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sorry, only one left that wasn’t vaguely sexual. Hoped to give these to you in person, but this is fine, too. Merry Christmas! I also put some food in the fridge. Not much, but wanted you to have something for Christmas. Not sure how much you can cook, but I wouldn’t advise using that oven, if I were you. Probably haunted.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> – Nursey</em>
</p><p>Opening the fridge, and, sure enough, it was mostly microwaveable stuff. He rolled his eyes. He could cook, actually. it’s just that the dorms didn’t really have proper kitchens, and this one – well , this one was rather too full of Bitty for Connor’s liking.</p><p>This was – this was unexpectedly thoughtful. And he didn’t know what to do.</p><p>His hands a little wobbly, he got his phone out.</p><p>
  <span class="u">Thanks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">You really didn’t have to.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>wanted to</em>
</p><p>
  <em>see you after Christmas</em>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">Yeah. See you.</span>
</p><p>He put his phone away. He’d come back here tomorrow. Have lunch, or whatever.</p><p>He suddenly felt very weird. Like he had to do something, but he didn’t know what. And his head was stuffy, like it was full of cotton wool. He shook himself. Maybe another walk would do him good. Leaving everything where it was, he headed out again, keeping the key on him.</p><p>Then he walked for a while. Quite a long while.</p><p>He didn’t really know where he was going. He was off campus now, somewhere in the narrow residential streets of the town. The snow crunched under his feet, and every now and again he was grateful for his long experience on the ice in reacting to unexpected slippery patches.</p><p>He didn’t think he’d been here before. The walking, and the quiet, had done a poor job at taking his mind off things. He knew well enough what the weird feeling was. He wanted to be home. He wanted to be sitting with his Mom on the sofa, watching the movies they always watched at Christmas, with the ridiculous fake icicles outside, because they lived in fucking Arizona, where cold meant the low 50s. But that was not his life anymore. All he had was what he’d got from people he’d tried his best to push away. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Was that the spirit of Christmas?</p><p>And as he was walking, he heard a bell ring, very close by. He stopped, and looked up. He was outside a church. And that was something else they’d always do. He thought back to all the sermons, and the kisses of peace, and his first, second, third, fiftieth, whatever communion. Had they all just melted away? He was sure they’d meant something. Something he still wanted them to mean, if only he wasn’t – if only he wasn’t so afraid.</p><p>His knee twitched. The door was open slightly, sending yellow light and indistinct voices out onto the snow. But it was late. He was late, too late to go in now. For it was midnight, and the bell rang three more times.</p><p>And Connor stood in the street, and it was dark, and it was cold, and he was crying.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Year 1 - Spring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Connor's first year continues. People, and events, intervene.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>...and that was a pretty long two weeks. Sorry! This turned out a bit longer again than I intended, and I also did some work on the rest of the story; the next chapter should be ready soon, but I won't put a date on it.</p>
<p>Comments, as always, happily received.</p>
<p>As a content note, there's a sort of panic attack described in Connor's conversation with Dex from 'He wondered if he should say more.' to 'Nobody who knew either of them would have believed it.'</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Hockey? I don’t know her.</strong>
</p>
<p>‘Ever feel like you’re a background character in someone else’s life?’</p>
<p>Connor turned away from the view of … somewhere in Connecticut? … to look at his friend. ‘Tango, everyone is a background character in someone else’s life. Things just look different when you’re standing in a different place. That’s just the way it is.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, but, as if your life itself is just peripheral to someone else’s? That you’re there for dramatic contrast, or something?’</p>
<p>‘Whose life do you feel yours is peripheral to?’</p>
<p>Tango wrinkled his nose. ‘Not really sure. Maybe Chowder?’</p>
<p>‘<em>Chowder</em>? Why Chowder?’</p>
<p>‘I don’t know. He’s just so upbeat. I’d watch a movie about him.’</p>
<p>‘Fair.’</p>
<p>‘Also, he’s a goalie. Goalies are awesome.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah. OK. I agree on that. Connor and Tony. Extras in <em>The Life of Christopher Chow: Sharks Fan</em>.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>‘Apparently this is the best place in Samwell for brunch.’</p>
<p>Mina nodded. ‘I’ve heard good things about it.’</p>
<p>So had Connor. Obviously. Maybe this would be the first time something someone on the team said would be useful.</p>
<p>The waitress brought them coffee cups, and filled them, before wandering off to top-up someone else. Connor was getting strong 50’s vibes.</p>
<p>‘So, tell me about yourself!’ she trilled.</p>
<p>‘Um. I –’ Play hockey? Nah. ‘– like films.’</p>
<p>‘Cool! What was the last movie you saw?’</p>
<p>Shit. He didn’t actually like films.</p>
<p>‘Er. <em>Zootopia</em>?’</p>
<p>That was a kids’ film though, wasn’t it. Though, it would probably be worse if that were the title of an adult film… Anyway, back to the date.</p>
<p>‘ – tackled some really serious themes, and really showed that animation can speak to multiple generations.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, yeah. Absolutely.’ Good choice, Connor! He picked up his coffee. Had he put sugar in it? He took a sip and grimaced. Ugh. No amount of sugar was going to improve that. Had they got their ingredients from the 50s as well as the décor?</p>
<p>‘ – and I think that there’s lots of scope for animated films doing just as well as live-action films in having higher-brow subject matter, don’t you?’</p>
<p>‘Definitely. Like, there should be Oscars for animated films.’</p>
<p>She frowned slightly. ‘There are…?’</p>
<p>‘Oh. Um. What I mean was, I guess –’ Come on, think! ‘– they should be competitive with live-action ones, too.’</p>
<p>There. That sounded like a plausible take.</p>
<p>She nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s a really interesting idea. I’m not sure you could do it with the acting, but, like, there’s no reason not to for other stuff.’</p>
<p>‘Mmm. So, er, I guess you like films?’</p>
<p>‘Oh, of course. They’re just, like, the highest art form in my opinion. And so accessible!’ She leaned across the table. ‘So, what’s your favourite film of all time? And who’s your favourite actor? And what do you think about –’</p>
<p>Oh dear. This was going to be like going on a date with Tango… Except he didn’t know any of the answers to these questions. How much could he base off <em>The Mighty Ducks</em>?</p>
<hr/>
<p>‘Why’s that guy from the hockey team giving you evils?’</p>
<p>Connor glanced across to where Ransom was sat with Olly and Wicks. ‘No idea. How do you even know that they’re on the hockey team?’</p>
<p>‘You just know.’</p>
<p>‘What’s so bad about them?’</p>
<p>Chad (M.) shrugged. ‘Something something mists of time.’ He sighed. ‘But mostly I think it’s because they think they’re better than us. That they’re so progressive and open, and all that shit. That we’re this cesspit of toxic masculinity when we’re actually one of the most queer-friendly teams on campus. Not that people would know. It seems we just fit the bro stereotype too much.’</p>
<p>‘Saying “progressive and open and all that shit” doesn’t seem to be helping your case,’ said Connor, quirking an eyebrow. ‘How do I know you’re not actually a massive homophobe?’</p>
<p>‘Well, I have a really weird way of showing it, if I am.’ He winked. Then his face took on a more serious expression. ‘But, really, lacrosse is about respect for other people.’</p>
<p>‘Is it? I thought it was about the cultural appropriation of Native American customs.’</p>
<p>‘Lot of white people lived originally in Arizona, did they?’</p>
<p>‘Actually, I think they did. Then they conquered Europe and came back again.’</p>
<p>Chad laughed. ‘Of course. Makes total sense. That’s why the Canyon is so Grand.’</p>
<p>‘You got it.’ Connor shook his head, then had some more of his yoghurt. Under the table, he bumped his shoe against Chad’s ankle. ‘How’s the love life?’</p>
<p>‘Oh, you know. He just felt “we weren’t connecting anymore”.’</p>
<p>‘Really.’</p>
<p>‘Uh huh.’</p>
<p>Connor raised an eyebrow. ‘My roommate’s got an editorial meeting at the Swallow from 8 until 10.’</p>
<p>‘How interesting.’</p>
<p>‘I thought so.’ Connor went back to his yoghurt.</p>
<p>‘Golly, I feel practically wooed.’</p>
<p>‘It’s more than you deserve.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>Connor was in a bad mood. Lots of little things he did had seemed to screw practice up, and had often seemed to impact everyone else. As his captains had taken pains to explain to him, though Connor had been able to see the effect of his bad play on everyone else for himself without it being pointed out to him in front of everyone like he were a particularly dense pee-wee player. Even Bitty wasn’t as patronising as all that.</p>
<p>So he stayed in the shower for a long time, until he was thoroughly pruney, and in complete disregard of the over-earnest campus <em>Save Water!</em> campaign. He intended, when he came out, that there’d be no one left, and he could continue to fume in peace. Maybe kick something. Glue Holster’s locker shut.</p>
<p>He was, then, both surprised, and somehow also not surprised, to see Tango sat, dressed, in his stall next to Connor’s, twiddling some tape around his hands.</p>
<p>‘Hey,’ he said, calmly, as if Connor wasn’t dripping wet, red-faced, and hadn’t been having a tantrum in the showers for the last twenty minutes.</p>
<p>Connor stared at him, and then let out a long breath. ‘Hey.’</p>
<p>‘You got class soon?’</p>
<p>‘No.’</p>
<p>Tango looked away as Connor dropped his towel and changed. ‘Wanna hang out for a bit after practice?’</p>
<p>Like ‘after practice’ wasn’t something that was, by all usual reckoning, long over by now.</p>
<p>‘Uh, I’ve got some work,’ he said, as he stuck his head through the neck of his shirt.</p>
<p>‘What sort of work?’</p>
<p>‘Some econ stuff.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Math, mostly.’</p>
<p>‘I can give you a hand, if you want? We can go to, like, that new coffee pod place.’ Tango looked back over at him. ‘They don’t make you buy anything. People just go there and hang out.’</p>
<p>Connor sucked at his lower lip. ‘Yeah. Fine.’</p>
<p>Tony beamed. ‘Great! Is there anything in particular that you’ve been having trouble with? Because I –’</p>
<p>He really didn’t deserve him, Connor was surprised to hear himself think as he bent over to tie his shoelaces, letting Tony’s chatter wash over his back.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The new coffee pod place <em>was</em> quite a nice place to work. A general quiet buzz, a mix of people catching up, and catching up on work.</p>
<p>‘Does it annoy you that I ask so many questions?’</p>
<p>Connor looked up from his work, and frowned at Tango, whose expression was oddly unreadable. ‘Not really. Why?’</p>
<p>‘Oh. Well, I guess you’re just not as – you don’t ask – you’re a pretty quiet guy.’</p>
<p>Connor nodded.</p>
<p>Tango waited a moment or two, and then continued. ‘And so I supposed that you didn’t like it when other people talked a lot. My asking questions being a good example of that.’</p>
<p>Connor shrugged.</p>
<p>Tango waited.</p>
<p>Connor underlined something in his book.</p>
<p>Tango waited.</p>
<p>Connor made a note.</p>
<p>Tango fidgeted.</p>
<p>Connor turned a page.</p>
<p>‘Oh, <em>come on</em>! You can’t think that was the end of the conversation – oh!’</p>
<p>Connor’s mouth twitched. ‘Yeah, I was jerking you around.’ He closed his book around his finger. ‘I don’t mind you asking questions. It saves me asking them most of the time. I just don’t like telling people things that they have no right knowing.’</p>
<p>‘Does that include me?’</p>
<p>Connor frowned. ‘What do you mean?’</p>
<p>‘Are there things that you think I have no right knowing?’</p>
<p>‘Everyone has those kinds of things. It’s not to do with anyone else. You just keep them to yourself.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe I have more of them than most. But, believe me, it’s nothing to do with my opinion of you, or whether I trust you, or whatever. There are just things that I don’t want to tell <em>anyone</em>.’</p>
<p>‘Oh. OK.’</p>
<p>Connor looked across at his friend. ‘And, for what it’s worth, you’ve never been what I’d consider prying about my life. You’ve respected that there are things that I don’t want to talk about, and I respect that in turn.’</p>
<p>Tango nodded. ‘But, if you ever did, you know I’d be happy to listen, right? And that’s not because I want to know the answers. I don’t actually care about the answers. It’s because you’re my friend, and I care about things upsetting you, and I want to help make things better, if I can.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah. I know.’</p>
<p>‘And I think most people are actually the same? They’re not nosy. They’re just concerned about you.’</p>
<p>‘Hmm.’ Connor narrowed his eyes.</p>
<p>Tango shrugged. ‘But you don’t have to tell anyone anything if you don’t want to. It’s all up to you.’</p>
<p>Connor nodded, but kept his eyes down.</p>
<p>Tango hesitated, then held up Connor’s worksheet, sticking on a grin. ‘Anyway, why are you so routinely bad at math? Aren’t you meant to be doing econ?’</p>
<p>Connor snorted, grateful for the change of topic. ‘<em>Meant to be</em> is maybe the operative phrase.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>Connor sometimes found his ability to entirely detach from his present actions slightly disturbing. Here he was, being pressed into a wall by a girl he’d known for all of fifteen minutes, her tongue in his mouth, and he was thinking about the situation rather than engaging with the kiss.</p>
<p>He didn’t really know how this sort of thing happened. It wasn’t like he went looking for – slight change of head position and re-engage – it.</p>
<p>Well, maybe he did, a bit. Maybe he went out with the vague hope that something might happen, and, perhaps, at this stage, he was used to something actually happening.</p>
<p>Was that bad? He wasn’t sure what to compare it to. There was Chowder and Cait. That sure as hell couldn’t be ‘normal’. Nursey fell madly in love with someone in every class he took. Matt had some high school girlfriend in, like, Toronto. Dex – who knew. Tango had serial monogamous relationships that didn’t last very long, but that he didn’t seem very upset when they ended. Was that normal? Bitty –</p>
<p>‘Hey, you wanna take this back to my dorm?’</p>
<p>He sucked on his slightly swollen lips, and then grinned at her. ‘Sure.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>‘And I agreed to this why?’</p>
<p>Denice smiled. ‘Because you love me.’</p>
<p>Connor rolled his eyes, and tried to hold the plywood frame in a way that was less painful. He didn’t succeed. ‘And this is going to be – what, a palm tree?’</p>
<p>‘When we’re finished with it, yes.’</p>
<p>‘And what’s the show? <em>South Pacific</em>?’</p>
<p>‘Oh, no, <em>Les Misèrables</em>.’</p>
<p>‘Um, OK…’</p>
<p>‘It’s <em>art</em>, Con.’</p>
<p>He rather thought it was a lot of freshmen and sophomores with a way bigger budget than they knew what to do with, but, whatever. He snorted. ‘Cool.’</p>
<p>‘Why do I think you’re not being sincere?’</p>
<p>‘Couldn’t possibly say.’ He grimaced. ‘Now, this is really starting to dig into my thigh. And, you know, I was really hoping to keep the use of both of my legs a little longer.’</p>
<p>‘OK, OK, stop whingeing. God, <em>boys</em>. No wonder you don’t give birth. You wouldn’t cope.’</p>
<p>‘Huh?’</p>
<p>‘Just follow me up these stairs, and then we’re almost there.’</p>
<p>He did, and they weren’t really, but he eventually put it down with a grunt, and a splinter in his thumb. He worried at it with his fingernails as he looked around the stage. ‘Are there many more of these?’</p>
<p>‘Three, I think.’</p>
<p>He groaned. ‘Aren’t there, like, tech people for this kind of thing.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, but that wouldn’t count as quality hanging-out-with-your-friend-time, would it?’</p>
<p>Connor raised an eyebrow. ‘I’d say yes, but it’s just you and me here.’</p>
<p>She pouted. ‘Hurtful.’ Then she slapped his upper arm. ‘Now, ready for another palm tree?’</p>
<p>‘If I say no, will I have to do it anyway?’</p>
<p>‘You’re catching on.’</p>
<p>‘Mmm.’ He gave her a sidelong look. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re just awful.’</p>
<p>‘Nah. Never.’ She beamed, putting on her most innocent expression. ‘I’m De-lovely.’</p>
<p>‘I reckon even De-nice is pushing it, in my opinion.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>‘You can look in some other direction now, Connor.’</p>
<p>He stared at her. ‘Huh?’</p>
<p>‘You’ve done nothing but drool over Clint’s ass ever since you saw him. It has not been subtle.’ She snorted. ‘Bits of the scenery are probably aware that you fancy him.’</p>
<p>She watched as her friend went several odd colours, then sat down abruptly, his head on his knees.</p>
<p>‘Connor? You OK.’</p>
<p>‘How – how did you know?’ he asked, his voice thick, yet somehow also small.</p>
<p>She frowned. ‘Oh – Con. Fucking hell.’ She sat down quickly beside him. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise. I basically assume that everyone is bi, or whatever, until proven otherwise.’ She put a hand gently on his knee. ‘I take it you’re not out?’</p>
<p>He jerked his head. ‘It’s complicated.’</p>
<p>‘Complicated in that you’re still figuring things out, or complicated in that you’re not sure who you want to tell?’</p>
<p>‘It’s just complicated.’</p>
<p>The tone of his voice suggested that she drop the subject. ‘OK. So –‘</p>
<p>‘None of my friends know. Well. I haven’t told them.’ He looked at her, his face paler than usual. ‘But it’s apparently not something I’m good at hiding?’</p>
<p>She shrugged one shoulder. ‘Well, I’m around a lot of theatre kids. The signs are not that uncommon.’ She paused. ‘I can forget this ever happened. That I never made the comment, that you never responded, and we don’t have to talk about this again. If you want.’</p>
<p>He raised his head to look at her, his expression reassuringly withering. ‘I don’t think that’s going to work.’ He sighed. ‘Do you think my other friends know?’</p>
<p>‘Having never really met your other friends, not being really clear on whether you actually have any, I’m not sure I can answer that for you. Do you think they know?’</p>
<p>‘I dunno. I didn’t think anyone knew. Other than…’</p>
<p>‘Other than…?’</p>
<p>He shifted a bit, and turned his head away. ‘Uh. Other than the people I’ve slept with.’</p>
<p>She snorted. ‘Why does that not really surprise me?’</p>
<p>‘Also, um, people hit on me quite a lot. Men and women. Do they –’</p>
<p>‘If this is some kind of weird self-pitying fishing trip for compliments, then, yes, Connor, you are a pretty attractive guy. Sufficient that people are willing to take a chance.’ She sized him up. ‘And I guess you look sort-of well-groomed. But – Like, if I was going to put a label on you just by looking, I’m not sure I could without context.’</p>
<p>‘Right. Well, sexually ambiguous Connor it is, then.’</p>
<p>She snorted. ‘So, what interested you in Clint?’</p>
<p>‘He’s got a nice, uh, voice.’</p>
<p>Denice raised an eyebrow. ‘Really.’</p>
<p>‘OK. Fine. It’s that bottom. It’s –’</p>
<p>‘Mesmerising?’</p>
<p>‘Cute.’ He smiled briefly, then dropped in on himself again. ‘Are you really OK with this?’</p>
<p>She put on arm around him. ‘Oh, Con. I really am. And I hate for you that you have to be so worried about people finding out. Is there really no-one that you trust?’</p>
<p>He shook his head, seemingly on instinct. ‘There’s no-one that I want to tell.’</p>
<p>‘OK. Well, like it or not, I know now. So – we can talk, if you need to. I won’t tell anyone.’</p>
<p>‘Cool. Cheers.’ He sucked his cheek. ‘I don’t think I do want to talk to anyone about it. Not yet, anyway.’</p>
<p>‘That’s fine. When you’re ready.’</p>
<p>He nodded. ‘That’ll be a long time.’</p>
<p>They sat quietly for a little while.</p>
<p>‘Is Clint gay?’</p>
<p>‘Oh, yes. Like a fucking daffodil.’</p>
<p>‘Do you, uh, maybe have his number…?’</p>
<p>‘Hang on.’ She turned around. ‘Clint!’ she yelled. ‘Someone wants to talk to you.’</p>
<p>She turned back round to smile sweetly at him. Connor glared. ‘What did we say about you not saying anything?’</p>
<p>‘Pretty sure it’s you asking him out that’ll give it away. And we’re the only ones here.’ She pinched his arm. ‘Now, go get him.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>Later, even as he was listening to Clint’s heartbeat gradually slow down and reflecting that the advertisement of a nicely shaped ass had not been misleading about the fun that might be had with it, he wondered quite why he hadn’t wanted Denice to know.</p>
<p>There was something about not wanting the people close to him to know. He didn’t want Matt to know. Or Tony. But he definitely didn’t want anyone on the team to know, and he didn’t really care about any of them much.</p>
<p>It wasn’t like he expected them to react badly – though he did know what that was like – and, really, he suspected that they’d be just as supportive as Denice had been.</p>
<p>He supposed that he didn’t want people thinking of it when they saw him. He didn’t want that to be his thing: There’s my friend Connor. He’s gay. Same as there’s Connor – sorry, ‘Whiskey’. He’s on the <em>hockey team</em>.</p>
<p>Ugh. Could he not just be Connor, and leave it at that?</p>
<p>And so, with the guys he hooked up with, he could just be a guy they hooked up with. He could be not-Connor, and they could be, well, anyone. He never had to see them again.</p>
<p>Even that guy he’d had so much fun with in his first week – had it been Jamie? Tommy? – he’d met up with only once more, the night after their first pre-season warm-up game, when he was weirdly pumped from what had been just a no-stakes, no-importance victory.</p>
<p>And he’d let himself linger a little the morning after, this time not needing to rush off somewhere so they’d had sex again, but then afterwards he’d kissed him, and said that he wasn’t interested in making it long-, medium-, or even short-term, and Jamie/Tommy had looked quite hurt, and Connor felt a bit guilty for causing it, but he could hardly take it back, and –</p>
<p>And he’d left.  And maybe he had seen him around since, but, to be honest, he hadn’t really noticed if he had. Connor felt that he was fine with that, though. And the mornings were definitely getting easier. But, then, he only went with the ‘I don’t think we’ll see each other again’ line if they pushed him for it. Most of the time he just said goodbye with the vague possibility that this might be a thing they could carry on. And he was always happy to hook-up again, if he had nothing else on.</p>
<p>With Chad (M.), at least, it was easy. They were friends first, and if Chad was between other partners, they’d hook up if they felt like it. If Connor couldn’t be bothered going through the whole process of chatting someone up. He had no desire for it to be anything more than that. And the same, as far as he was aware, for Chad. It was cool.</p>
<p>He rubbed the sweat off the end of his nose, and leaned a little more into Clint’s chest.</p>
<p>You were supposed to sleep around at college. Useful to find things out that way that you might like.</p>
<p>It was what everyone was doing.</p>
<hr/>
<p>‘So this is a – a what?’</p>
<p>‘A kegster!’ shouted Connor over the music.</p>
<p>Matt nodded. ‘Cool. And why’s it called that?’</p>
<p>Before Connor could answer, there was a loud cheer. He sighed and pointed across the room, to where Bitty was being held upside down.</p>
<p>Matt laughed. ‘That’s ridiculous.’</p>
<p>Connor nodded.</p>
<p>‘Is he even on the team? He seems pretty small.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, yeah, that’s Bitty.’  He pursed his lips. ‘He’s definitely on the team.’</p>
<p>‘Ah. So why are they doing that to him?’</p>
<p>Connor shrugged. ‘He scored a goal.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, OK. Seems a good enough reason.’ Matt thought for a minute. ‘You scored a goal, too.’</p>
<p>Connor looked shifty. ‘Yeah.’</p>
<p>‘So will they be making you do that?’</p>
<p>He bit the side of his lip. ‘I’m not sure that they’ve worked out that I’m here…’ He looked around. ‘I don’t usually come.’</p>
<p>‘Aw. Why not?’</p>
<p>‘It’s just so –’ He shrugged.</p>
<p>‘But I thought you were a party guy?’</p>
<p>‘I guess I am most of the time – but not with these guys.’</p>
<p>‘I thought sports teams were all buddy-buddy.’</p>
<p>Connor was clearly trying not to make a face. Matt filed this away as an unusual display of emotion. ‘Can I get you another drink?’</p>
<p>‘Sure –’</p>
<p>‘Oh my God! Whiskey!’ Someone with a huge grin appeared from seemingly nowhere, and folded Connor into a massive, tipsy, hug. ‘You’re here!’</p>
<p>‘Uh, yeah… I seem to be…’</p>
<p>The guy released him and beamed. He saw Matt. ‘Hi! I’m Chowder! Whiskey never comes to these things. Are you both having a good time?’ He turned away, and shouted across the room. ‘Guys! Guys!’</p>
<p>‘Chowder’ jumped up and down, apparently waving at some people, though Matt obviously had no idea who. But, a moment or so later, two big guys showed up. Bitty was small, that was clear. But Matt was also starting to realise that Connor was also pretty small for a hockey player, if these two were deemed average size.</p>
<p>‘Nursey! Dex! Whiskey’s here!’</p>
<p>‘Chowder’ span around and gestured to where Connor – had been.</p>
<p>The one called Nursey stared at where the one called Chowder was pointing. ‘Uh. Chowder? Are you sure he was here, or have you just had too much to drink?’</p>
<p>Chowder frowned. ‘Um. He was right here.’ He looked at Matt. ‘This guy was with him.’ He frowned deeper. ‘You were here with Whiskey, right?’</p>
<p>‘Uh.’ Matt had no idea what the dynamics were here, but Connor seemed to have vanished for a reason. ‘Who’s Whiskey?’</p>
<p>The ginger one called Dex put an arm around the now very confused-looking one called Chowder. ‘It’s quite a popular haircut. Now, I think Lardo is destroying some guy from the tennis team at flip cup.’</p>
<p>‘I wonder if those skills are even transferable…’ mused Chowder, allowing himself to be steered away.</p>
<p>The one-called-Nurse, inexplicably wearing sunglasses, gave Matt a half-salute. ‘Have a good evening, brah.’</p>
<p>Matt nodded absently. Was Connor going to turn into a fratboy, too? Or was he already? Matt wasn’t sure. Actually, where was –</p>
<p>‘Hey.’</p>
<p>Connor appeared behind him, kicking a cupboard door shut.</p>
<p>‘Were you just hiding in a –’</p>
<p>‘I think I’m about ready to head out. You coming, or shall I leave a clear path to your bed for later?’</p>
<p>Matt downed the last of his drink. ‘Nah, I’ll come back with you. Good party, though.’ He made a face. ‘Even if the drink is a little … idiosyncratic.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, I have no idea. Not sure anyone does, to be perfectly frank.’</p>
<p>Matt followed Connor out through a kitchen and into the cold night. ‘Thanks for inviting me.’</p>
<p>Connor tipped his head. ‘Not my party. But you can show up any time.’</p>
<p>Matt somehow doubted that if he went, he would see much of his friend there. But, still, it had been fun, even if Connor had been weirdly on edge for a party.</p>
<p>They came to the end of the row of frat houses. ‘So, they call you ‘Whiskey’?’</p>
<p>Connor rolled his eyes. ‘It’s apparently necessary that I have a nickname. They’re not the most imaginative bunch.’ He jerked his head back at the Haus. ‘They pretty much just stick a ‘y’ on the end.’ They walked on towards the dorms in silence for a bit, until Connor cleared his throat. ‘Um. Thanks for covering for me. With them. Sorry if it was awkward for you.’</p>
<p>‘I felt bad lying to that Chowder dude. He seemed genuinely pleased to see you.’</p>
<p>Connor looked a little guilty. ‘Chowder is a really lovely guy. But he’s just too inseparable from all the rest. And it’s all just too much.’</p>
<p>‘So you don’t engage with any of them?’</p>
<p>Connor shrugged, and, with them back at the dorms, that seemed to be the end of the conversation.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Connor didn’t even look up as Denice slid into the seat opposite him in the coffee shop. It was 4pm on a Thursday. She’d just had her bio class. Which she did for some reason Connor had not yet figured out.</p>
<p>‘Con. Help.’</p>
<p>‘What?’</p>
<p>‘I don’t understand this reading.’</p>
<p>‘And how would I, who do none of the same classes as you, be of any help whatsoever?’</p>
<p>‘You do, like, math and shit.’</p>
<p>‘Not really, but go on.’</p>
<p>‘Also, you seem to be sort-of passably smart.’</p>
<p>‘That’s not just transferrable to everything, you know.’</p>
<p>She pulled open her bag. ‘Just take a look, OK?’</p>
<p>‘OK, OK…’ He pulled her worksheet across the table. ‘Hmm.’ He stared at it for a while. Denice considered going to get coffee. ‘I think I get some this. It’s stats. But, uh, it gets pretty hard towards the end, and it’s not something I’m familiar with. It’s the sort of thing that Tango understands better than me.’</p>
<p>She looked puzzled. ‘What the fuck is “Tango”?’</p>
<p>‘Oh, um, Tony. It’s just a nickname.’</p>
<p>‘And who’s Tony?’</p>
<p>‘One of my friends.’ He looked over at her and crooked an eyebrow. ‘There’s more than just you in my life, you know.’</p>
<p>She dropped her mouth open. ‘I’m crushed, Connor Whisk. I thought I was the only person you knew at this whole university. How could you betray me like this?’</p>
<p>He rolled his eyes. ‘Are you done?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah.’</p>
<p>‘So, Tony would –’</p>
<p>‘Hang on.’</p>
<p>He frowned. ‘What?’</p>
<p>‘I’m not sure I actually am done.’ She waited. ‘No, no. Seems like I am. Carry on.’</p>
<p>He sighed. ‘Look, I can ask Tony about this if you’d like. Which is more, frankly, than you deserve.’</p>
<p>She looked down. ‘Thanks, Con. Would actually appreciate that.’</p>
<p>‘Wow. Sincerity. When’s this due?’</p>
<p>‘First thing Monday.’</p>
<p>He nodded, and snapped a photo of the sheet. ‘I’ll get back to you.’ He waved a hand dismissively at her. ‘And back to my own work.’</p>
<p>She did not leave, but watched him work for a few minutes. ‘How come we’ve not met?’</p>
<p>He looked up, frowning slightly. ‘Huh?’</p>
<p>‘Tango-Tony.’</p>
<p>‘Oh.’ Connor shrugged. ‘Just never been in the same place at the same time, I guess. But you don’t have to meet all my friends.’</p>
<p>‘I know. It took me until this semester to meet your roommate.’</p>
<p>‘Well, I’ve never met yours.’</p>
<p>‘Do you want to?’</p>
<p>‘Not especially. Are they nice?’</p>
<p>Denice smirked. ‘I don’t have one.’</p>
<p>He snorted. ‘Are you going to do anything today other than screw with me?’</p>
<p>‘Well, I’ve already got your hot friend doing my homework, so, nope.’</p>
<p>Connor groaned, then flicked his head up. ‘My ‘hot’ friend? Tony isn’t hot. Why would he be hot?’</p>
<p>‘Just hoping, really.’</p>
<p>‘De<em>nice</em>!’</p>
<p>She laughed. ‘Are you sure he’s not hot? Like, not even a bit? Enough for me to meet him, and have a think for myself?’</p>
<p>‘I really couldn’t say.’</p>
<p>‘How often to you see him?’</p>
<p>‘Quite often.’</p>
<p>‘Well?’</p>
<p>‘I genuinely haven’t noticed! It’s not like I go around all the time judging people on how hot they are.’</p>
<p>She raised both eyebrows.</p>
<p>He pouted. ‘OK. Maybe I do.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, there’s definitely this like once-over look you give everyone you meet.’ She nodded. ‘It’s, like, subtle. Not obviously creepy.’</p>
<p>‘Thanks. Very reassuring not to be an obvious creep.’</p>
<p>‘Keeping your creep on the down-low, huh.’</p>
<p>He glared at her, and then shrugged. ‘It’s like you. If someone asked me if you were hot, I wouldn’t be able to say.’</p>
<p>‘Aw.’ She nudged his knee under the table. ‘Such a gentleman.’ She leaned forward. ‘But, seriously, always just say yes. Unless they’re genuinely awful.’</p>
<p>He stared blankly at her, then shook his head, and bent back down to his work.</p>
<p>She kicked his ankle. ‘Learn to share, Con. Wingman a girl once in a while. We can’t all be as successfully predatory as you.’</p>
<p>He screwed up his face. ‘Don’t call it that. You make me sound bad.’</p>
<p>‘Enthusiastically forward, then.’</p>
<p>He just rolled his eyes. ‘I’m not sure you and Tony’d get along, really.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>That March, he went to his first lacrosse game. He’d never seen one before. If hockey was a bit of a niche sport in Arizona, lacrosse was pretty much unheard of.</p>
<p>He wasn’t sure if the bad feeling between the Haus and the LAX bros was actually mutual, but as a precaution he’d borrowed an old set of sunglasses and a baseball cap that had been gathering – he didn’t really want to think about what they’d been gathering – in the corner of the front room. They hadn’t been that friendly when he and Tango had turned up there by mistake, but whether that was the result of previous SMH activity, or an innate loathing, he wasn’t sure. Still, no-one need know that it was him. And it wasn’t like he was particularly strongly associated with the rest of the team socially anyway.</p>
<p>Of course, they’d been fine at Chad’s initiation, but they hadn’t known who he was other than someone Chad’s knew from his econ classes. Also the balaclava, blindfold, and earplugs he’d had to wear. And the fact that they’d all been totally wasted even by the time he arrived. Chad didn’t know he played hockey, either, so it was probably fine.</p>
<p>Actually, where was Chad? He was usually tall enough to stick out. But, uh, not on a lacrosse team, Connor supposed.</p>
<p>For about 10 minutes, he had absolutely no idea what was going on. Face-offs were at least familiar, but little else was. You could run <em>behind</em> the goal? What was all that about? There were also so many goals. Like, three-or-four-hockey-games-worth. And the ball flew around all over the place. Things were fast, and things were surprisingly physical. It wasn’t the same as hockey, but it was still interesting.</p>
<p>It was also fun to be in the crowd. He didn’t think he’d spectated anything in a long time. He’d never gone to Coyotes games all that often as a kid, as he’d often had his own games on the same days, and, even if they hadn’t, going all the way to Phoenix was something he could only very rarely convince his parents to bother to do. The people on either side of him were really into it, and it was hard to not be enthused by that.</p>
<p>After the end of the first period (of <em>four</em>?) he struck up a conversation with them. Lindsey and Lindsay were both keen supporters of the LAX team.</p>
<p>‘Don’t you think it’s such an amazing sport?’ enthused Lindsey.</p>
<p>‘It’s so fast!’ said Lindsay.</p>
<p>‘And they’re all so tall!’ said both at once.</p>
<p>Connor, who had the actually-I’m-exactly-the-median-height person’s suspicion of the overly tall, hummed in agreement.</p>
<hr/>
<p>They won. He’d tried to slip away, but had got swept along with the Samwell crowd back towards the LAX house. Apparently kegsters existed for the LAX team, too, but were more spontaneously organised. He didn’t even know where the team was. This was just the spectators deciding that they were going to have a party.</p>
<p>He just let himself drift with the crowd. There were a few people he thought he recognised, but, by and large, this was an unfamiliar group. After a while, the team arrived from wherever their changing rooms were, and there was a huge cheer, followed by some chanting. This chanting seemed to be traditional, and was quite different to the hockey cheers.</p>
<p>A few repetitions got Connor singing along, though. It was surprisingly liberating.</p>
<p>‘Sam!’</p>
<p>‘Well!’</p>
<p>‘L – A –X!’</p>
<p>‘Sam!’</p>
<p>‘Well!’</p>
<p>‘L – A – X!’</p>
<p>And so on. Lyrically pioneering, melodically audacious.</p>
<p>‘Who do we hate?’</p>
<p>‘The hockey team!’</p>
<p>‘Fuck the hockey team!’</p>
<p>General raucous cheering.</p>
<p>Connor sighed, and pulled his cap a little lower over his face. Oh, well.</p>
<p>He was handed a drink of … something by a brown-haired guy, a stud in one ear, who grinned at him, before turning back to a huge metal oil drum.</p>
<p>Connor pondered whether that was all that hygienic, before gingerly taking a sip. Eyes watering, he decided that the barrel was probably sterile. He also wondered if he still had tonsils.</p>
<p>‘Hey, are you enjoying the party?’ said a girl – brown hair, strikingly dark blue lipstick – who popped up next to him.</p>
<p>Connor took another swig of his drink, swayed very slightly, and nodded. ‘The music is surprisingly good.’</p>
<p>She laughed. ‘Have you been to one of these before?’</p>
<p>‘No here, no,’ he said, his voice already getting hoarse from speaking over the noise.</p>
<p>‘Cool! What made you come this time?’</p>
<p>‘Oh, I’m friends with Chad.’</p>
<p>The girl laughed. ‘You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific than that…’</p>
<p>‘Er. Chad M…artins?’</p>
<p>‘Ah, right. He couldn’t make it this weekend. Some family thing.’</p>
<p>Oh. Had Connor known that? Maybe. Chad occasionally talked about stuff like that to him.</p>
<p>‘Are you, like, his new boyfriend?’</p>
<p>It was all too hot and sweaty for the way Connor was suddenly hot and sweating to be noticed. ‘No. He’s just a friend.’ He finished his drink, feeling his throat warm. In his slight tipsiness, and guilty desire to overcompensate, he wondered if the girl might be interested in –</p>
<p>And she was locking lips with a tall blonde woman in a sequined top.</p>
<p>Fine.</p>
<p>He turned back towards the guy with the oil drum. Two drinks was hardly more than one, right?</p>
<hr/>
<p>He had had more than two drinks when he came across ear-stud again. It was dark blue. Like his eyes…</p>
<p>Um. Focus. ‘Hi.’</p>
<p>‘Hello. Not seen you around at one of these before.’</p>
<p>‘There must be 250 people here. Somehow. So maybe that’s not surprising.’</p>
<p>‘I’ve got a good memory. Especially for someone like you.’ He smiled, bright teeth made interesting by a chip at the front. ‘But you look familiar.’</p>
<p>‘Maybe the library? Or some class? I do econ. Do you?’ He decided not to mention his interaction with Chad.</p>
<p>‘Nah. Music major. Econ’s cool, though. Analysis, and stuff, yeah?’</p>
<p>‘Uh. Yeah. Bit of history, bit of theory. Hoping to minor in geology.’</p>
<p>‘Bit of a twist there, dude.’</p>
<p>‘Uh. Yeah. I like rocks.’ <em>I like rocks</em>. Oh, well <em>done</em>, Connor. Making conversation like a normal human creature. Fuck’s sake. This guy was hot. The by-laws never warned him that the LAX bros might be hot.</p>
<p>‘You still in there, mate?’</p>
<p>‘Huh?’ LAX-juice seemed so much stronger than tub-juice. How was that possible?</p>
<p>‘I said: what do you like about rocks?’</p>
<p>‘They’re, um, really hard.’ <em>What!!</em> ‘I mean, they’re kind-of solid, and you can find them everywhere, and they look pretty ordinary, but if you hit them with a hammer, you can see what’s inside, and I just think that’s awesome.’ He could hear himself saying those words. Why was he saying those words? Should he have stopped drinking some time ago? At least he hadn’t said that he played hockey.</p>
<p>The guy smiled. ‘That’s really sweet.’</p>
<p>‘It is? Sounded like it was nonsense, and I said it.’</p>
<p>‘You make no sense, but I can tell that you really like what you do. And maybe, when you’re not quite as wasted, you can tell me about it.’</p>
<p>Wasted? He wasn’t wasted. He could handle his – his – jup-cues. Juice-cup. Tub-cup. Yeah, that was it. He drained his cup. ‘Yeah.’</p>
<p>He looked at the guy. Guys? Twins? No.</p>
<p>One person. But drunkified. Oof. Really, really, what the fuck was in this?</p>
<p>‘I’ll write my number on your arm. So you won’t forget.’</p>
<p>‘Doesn’t have to be my arm.’ He grinned, and winked. ‘Pick anything beginning with ‘a’…’ He winked again. It made him feel quite dizzy.</p>
<p>‘Time for you to be getting home, now, right?’</p>
<p>‘If you exist. Insist. We’ll have to be quiet, though, my roommate will be asleep.’</p>
<p>‘Not <em>us</em>, just you, strange drunk horny rock boy. Where do you live?’</p>
<p>‘Tucson, Arizona. But not anymore. ‘Cause, you see, my parents –’ A sudden wave of nausea rolled through him. ‘Jesus God…’ He staggered out of the room and onto the porch, before being violently sick into a pot plant.</p>
<hr/>
<p>‘And that’s why – whoa! Whiskey?’</p>
<p>Connor stared up into the concerned blue eyes of Holster. ‘Uurgh?’</p>
<p>‘What happened to you? Did you sleep out here?’</p>
<p>‘Uhh.’ He closed his eyes.</p>
<p>‘Whiskey?’</p>
<p>‘You in there, kid?’</p>
<p>He squinted into the dim, but somehow also too-bright, morning light. ‘Huh?’</p>
<p>‘Did you sleep out here?’</p>
<p>He groaned. ‘If passed-out is sleep. Yeah.’ He pressed his palms to eyeballs. ‘Aargh.’</p>
<p>Holster tapped a hockey stick on the boards near his head. ‘Well, practice in 15 minutes. Look forward to seeing you there.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah… Sure… Be there. After … sleep.’</p>
<p> ‘You know, Ransom, I was thinking that we might warm up the people who live in the Haus by having them run up and down these steps. Really enthusiastically.’</p>
<p>‘That sounds like such a good idea!’</p>
<p>‘Fuck. Off.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>‘Since we’re without Whiskey this morning –’</p>
<p>‘’m here!’ Connor jumped over the side, skidded slightly, and joined them. ‘Not late. Just, like, fuckin’ dead.’</p>
<p>‘Great! Well, now we have Whiskey, we can get onto the first business of the morning – suicides!’</p>
<p>There was a general groan.</p>
<p>‘Now, it’s really good for conditioning.’</p>
<p>‘And you wouldn’t want Jack to find out that you’ve been slacking off,’ said Ransom.</p>
<p>‘And, <em>somehow</em>, Jack manages to get know just about everything that happens here…’</p>
<p>If Connor hadn’t been quite so terribly hung-over, he might have picked up on Bitty going slightly pink. But, ugh, his <em>head</em>. And most of the rest of his body. He’d thought that the cold of the rink might help, but, no, every breath felt like another nail being driven into his skull.</p>
<p>
  <em>Bang. Bang.</em>
</p>
<p>He looked up. Holster was banging his stick on the ice. ‘Enough chit-chat and complaining, everyone. Let’s get warmed up before the coaches make you do something worse.’</p>
<p>Still grumbling, they skated slowly off to the far end of the rink. Connor closed his eyes for a moment and pressed his thumbs either side of the top of his nose.</p>
<p>‘Coming, Whiskey – what you waiting for?’ asked Ransom.</p>
<p>‘I was just wondering whether I should try to be sick now and get it over with, or just resign myself to waiting until it happens.’</p>
<p>‘That’s the spirit!’ Both his captains slapped him on the shoulder, sending him sliding forwards into what he suspected was going to be the most nauseating practice of his life.</p>
<hr/>
<p>In the end, he had only been sick once, about a third of the way though practice, and had had the presence of mind to bolt from the ice beforehand, abandoning the pass from Bitty, the puck, his stick, and his dignity. He’d come back a few minutes later, and Dex had given him back his stick, and then things had continued as if nothing had happened.</p>
<p>Well, it was hardly the first time that it had happened to one of them. Wicks was still teased about some mishap from back in his first year.</p>
<p>‘Why do you have a phone number on your arm?’ asked Nursey, afterwards, as they were heading to the showers.</p>
<p>Connor frowned, and looked down at his arm. Huh.</p>
<p>‘It’s my … professor for economics. I’d put my laptop away when they gave out details of office hours and stuff.’</p>
<p>‘Really.’</p>
<p>‘Yup.’</p>
<p>‘And it’s been there since Friday.’</p>
<p>‘Uh…’</p>
<p>‘Well, I hope you’ve written it down somewhere more permanent, because the glitter pen you’ve used totally believably to write down your econ professor’s mobile number with will surely wash off in the shower.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>‘Hey.’</p>
<p>‘Hi.’</p>
<p>This was something of a new departure. He’d never really talked about this with people before. He doubted that the team even knew he was planning a minor, let alone that it was in geology.</p>
<p>‘I don’t think I’ve been here before.’</p>
<p>Connor tipped his head. ‘People forget it’s here. It’s not like it’s in the most glamorous end of the campus.’</p>
<p>The Samwell Museum was not large, nor all that much visited, but it did have an interesting mineral collection. The museum took up most of a pretty horrible concrete building, hastily built at some point when the business school, or the dean’s office, or whatever, had needed the nice old building that had housed it from its foundation. If you hung around long enough (say three, maybe four minutes) one of the staff would complain about it to you.</p>
<p>‘Oh, Connor – good to see you!’</p>
<p>‘Hi, Dr Griffiths.’ He smiled at a woman with close-cropped white hair. ‘Can I show a friend of mine some bits from the collection?’</p>
<p>She nodded. ‘Sure. You know where the keys are.’</p>
<p>So, the thing was, he really did like rocks. Finding them, examining them, cataloguing them. And that was before you got to what might be encased in them.</p>
<p>And, talking to Chad (L.), he got more and more enthusiastic about the things in the cases, letting his arms fly a little loose from his body, smiling more as he bent over a tray to explain something.</p>
<p>He felt himself relax into his excitement, which was an unfamiliar feeling. He almost couldn’t remember why he held himself so aloof and tense all the time.</p>
<p>‘So you’re saying that these are actually the same thing? But they look so different!’</p>
<hr/>
<p>One evening found him outside one of the Stop-&amp;-Shops.</p>
<p>‘Oh – hey.’</p>
<p>He looked up, startled. ‘Hey, Dex.’</p>
<p>Dex sat down on the wall next to him. ‘You shopping, or just watching the door of the shop?’</p>
<p>‘Hmm?’ Whiskey looked across at him. ‘Oh, I’m just waiting. They normally mark the food down at –’</p>
<p>‘– at 6:30, I know. Half-an-hour before closing.’ Dex tried not to look embarrassed. ‘This is when I always do my shopping.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, me too.’ Connor looked away. He thought. He could tell Dex. Dex would understand. ‘Thank God I found out about it. Didn’t want to be left scrounging for leftovers round the Haus.’</p>
<p>Dex looked at him. ‘Things are really that tight?’</p>
<p>Connor chewed the inside of his cheek, still unable to look at his teammate. ‘Yeah. After rent. And then when I broke that stick…’ He stared at the ground. ‘Pretty much cleared me out.’</p>
<p> ‘I thought you were rich, like Nursey. Or Holster. Or ninety-per-cent of the team. Or this whole college.’</p>
<p>Connor shook his head. ‘Nope.’</p>
<p>‘But you always seem so – so poised. So put-together. So …’</p>
<p>‘Preppy?’</p>
<p>Dex nodded. ‘Yeah. I guess. Huh.’</p>
<p>Connor wondered if Dex was going to say anything more. He wondered if he should say more. Justify himself. Convince Dex that he’d not been idle. Explain that he’d budgeted for getting a job, that he had tried so hard to get a job, that he’d been turned away from place after place because of the long training hours and his inability to work weekends, that the hockey that was meant to be his life-raft through college was actually pushing him into debt, that, though his scholarship was generous, the cost of things up here were disproportionately high, that maybe he should have looked into cost of living more carefully, but that he’d just been so excited and relieved and desperate to get away –</p>
<p>‘Hey, hey, hey – Whiskey, mate – Connor!’</p>
<p>And suddenly Dex had his arm around his shoulders, and he realised that the ground he was staring at had become really blurry, and that his cheeks were wet and his nose snotty – and then he was actually crying, and, probably to both of their surprise, being pulled into a proper hug by Dex. He didn’t eben have the self-possession to be mortified.</p>
<p>Nobody who knew either of them would have believed it.</p>
<p>It was a little while before he calmed down enough to wipe his eyes and disengage from Dex’s arms. Now very red, he angled his body away, and was back to staring at the ground.</p>
<p>‘It’s OK,’ said Dex, softly. ‘That might sound like a really dumb thing to say, and you might not believe me, but it really is OK to have problems. There are things in place for this kind of thing. Official things. College things that are there to help you.  Funds from the sports department that are there for you. I’ve applied for most of them. I can go through them with you, if you want. Or I can point you to where you can find them, if you want to do it on your own. And, like, I can tell you from experience that it’s not onerous – Samwell’s good, they want to be useful, and they’ve got the funds to do it. They won’t make you jump through hoops, and stuff.’</p>
<p>Connor glanced to the side. Dex was looking earnestly at him, his expression uncharacteristically soft.</p>
<p>‘And then there’s the team. There’s all kinds of stuff around the Haus that you can have, or you can borrow, or whatever you need. And, you know, you wouldn’t even need to tell Bitty anything for him to load you up with food. Ransom’s stomach rumbled once and I’m not sure Bitty has ever stopped looking at him like he’s gonna’ faint.’</p>
<p>Connor didn’t say anything, but turned back towards Dex, meeting his eyes as he let Dex keep talking.</p>
<p>‘Now, I don’t know what your circumstances are, and you don’t have to tell me, but, if things aren’t good, you should speak to somebody.’ Dex patted his shoulder slightly awkwardly. ‘You don’t have to talk to me, but if you want to, you can.’</p>
<p>Connors wiped his face with his sleeve. ‘Thanks.’</p>
<p>‘Whatever works best. But you really should talk to someone if there’s something wrong. Thinking you’ll get over it isn’t a substitute for help.’</p>
<p>Connor nodded, a very quick dip of the head.</p>
<p>‘Do you need to sit for a bit longer?’</p>
<p>‘No. I’m better now.’ He took a few breaths. ‘Um. Thanks, Dex.’</p>
<p>‘Not a problem. Got your back.’ He checked his watch. ‘Gone 6:30. Shall we go shopping?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah.’ They both slid off the wall. Connor felt in the pocket of his hoodie for a tissue – well, some balled up toilet roll – and blew his nose. ‘Uh. Dex?’</p>
<p>‘Yep?’</p>
<p>He sniffed, swallowed, then looked Dex full in the face. ‘Afterwards, can we go somewhere for a chat. I, uh, will take you up on that.’ He jerked round to pick up his bag. ‘If you’ve got some time.’</p>
<p>Dex smiled. ‘Of course. We can go back to my dorm. My roommate’s away this weekend, so it’ll be private.’</p>
<p>‘That sounds perfect.’</p>
<p>‘Good. Ready to pick up some misshapen veg?’</p>
<p>‘Absolutely.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>In Dex’s room, he was offered a chair while Dex settled himself on the bed.</p>
<p>‘I mean, I know that I was the one that suggested this – but is there anything in particular that you want to talk about?’</p>
<p>‘Nothing specific.’ Connor bit his lip. ‘I’m not going to tell you about my situation. Not yet, anyway.’</p>
<p>‘That’s fine.’ Dex nodded. ‘You talk about what you want to talk about.’</p>
<p>‘OK.’ Connor paused. ‘Well, I guess this is kind-of awkward, but, uh, the Team. SMH…’</p>
<p>‘What about them?’</p>
<p>‘Do they – do you – do they – do they hate me?’</p>
<p>Dex blinked. ‘No. No, definitely not. What makes you think that?’</p>
<p>‘I seem to get yelled at a lot. People other than Tony don’t talk to me much.’ He frowned. ‘Actually, I’ve never really paid much attention – are you OK with Tony? Is he friends with you lot?’</p>
<p>‘Tango? Yeah – he’s great! A really good guy.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah,’ said Connor, quietly. ‘He is. But what do you all actually think about me?’</p>
<p>Dex’s ears went red. ‘Well, uh, that you’re good at hockey…’</p>
<p>‘Beyond that? I know Bitty thinks I’m standoffish.’</p>
<p>‘I guess people do think that you’re a bit – a bit aloof? As if you’re not one of us.’</p>
<p>‘I don’t feel like I am one of you.’</p>
<p>‘Well, I guess that’ll do it, then.’ Dex considered. ‘Do you want to be?’</p>
<p>‘What?’</p>
<p>‘One of us.’</p>
<p>Whiskey tipped his head. ‘I don’t really know. I’d like to be friends with you all, but I’m not sure that I want to be friends in the same way that you’re friends with each other. So –’ he hesitated, searching for the right word – ‘so close? In each other’s pockets? Affectionate?’ He buried his head in his hands. ‘I know what I mean to say, but I don’t know how to say it.’</p>
<p>When he looked up again, Dex seemed to have stiffened. ‘This isn’t – this isn’t because of Bitty, is it?’ Dex frowned. ‘Because if it is, then you’ve got rather a lot of thinking to do before we’d even want to know you.’</p>
<p>Connor’s mouth dropped open. ‘Oh, no, no – not at all! Nothing like that.’ He shook his head vigorously.</p>
<p>Dex nodded, and relaxed a bit. ‘Good.’ He sighed. ‘I guess the main thing is that we don’t know you. And you don’t really want to be known, am I right?’</p>
<p>Connor shrugged.</p>
<p>‘This is a bit of a two-way street, Whiskey. You have to give us something to work with.’</p>
<p>‘I’m just – just used to keeping myself to myself. I don’t really get talking to people about stuff.’</p>
<p>Dex considered. ‘You close off, not because you really want to close off, but because you’ve never actually had anyone to open up to before?’</p>
<p>That – that rang true. He nodded.</p>
<p>‘I was like that, when I came here. Still am sometimes. And it’s not a bad thing, sometimes. But just not all of the time, you know?’</p>
<p>‘Uh-huh.’ Connor stared off into space. ‘I mean, I’ll try to do that. Open up a bit more. But I honestly don’t know if I’ll succeed. Yet, at least.’</p>
<p>Dex nodded slowly. ‘I think we’re mostly happy to listen, when you’re ready to talk.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah. Thanks. I’ll think about it.’</p>
<p>Dex eyed him, probably trying to work out if he was just saying that. ‘Try talking to Lardo. She’s always managed to keep one foot out of the Haus much more successfully than the rest of us. She might be able to help you work out how to be involved but not be overwhelmed.’</p>
<p>Connor nodded again. ‘OK. That might actually be a good idea.’</p>
<p>Dex smiled. ‘I’m overwhelmed by your enthusiasm.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>‘How much do you reckon this all costs?’</p>
<p>Tango propped himself up on one arm on his bed. ‘What do you mean?’</p>
<p>Connor gestured. ‘All this. Even sharing, that’s still, like, a dozen hotel rooms. Every two or three weeks. And that’s before we get to scholarships, and equipment, and professional coaches, and building a whole fucking ice rink arena to go with the football stadium and the swimming pool and the baseball pitch, and, you know, somewhere tucked in among all that, a library. Is it not just crazy?’ He shook his head. ‘The whole world of college sport is just – just – ugh.’ He flopped back onto his pillow. ‘I don’t even want to think about it.’</p>
<p>‘You were the one who, um, brought it up?’ said Tony.</p>
<p>‘I know, I know…’ Connor twitched his feet from side to side. ‘But it’s just so odd. To know that I’m really just here to play hockey, from a university management perspective. That’s what they’re paying for. Like, revenue, or prestige, or whatever.’ He sighed. ‘But if it wasn’t for it, I wouldn’t be at Samwell.’</p>
<p>‘Nor me.’</p>
<p>‘And probably not Bitty or Dex, either.’</p>
<p>‘No.’</p>
<p>‘I guess we’re lucky, in a way. Hockey’s a hard sport, but it’s not often a really dangerous one. Concussions happen, sure, but, like, football – that can really fuck you up.’</p>
<p>‘You forget about the really sharp things we wear on our feet.’</p>
<p>‘True. Maybe hockey will fuck you up, too. Putting your long-term health at risk for the pride of the Dean, or whoever. To ensure continued alumni donations. Some crap like that.’ He sucked at his teeth. ‘And it’s wild that it’s on television. Not on, like, channels anybody watches, but still. We’re all TV stars.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah.’ Tango frowned. ‘Are you OK?’</p>
<p>‘Uh-huh. Why wouldn’t I be?’</p>
<p>‘I dunno. You just seem a little more … talkative than usual?’ Tango wrinkled his nose. ‘It’s a bit unnerving.’</p>
<p>Connor rolled over. ‘Ah. Well. I’ll let you into a little secret.’ He winked. ‘Connor might just have had a liiiiittle drink after the game.’</p>
<p>‘From where?’</p>
<p>‘I can be quite persuasive sometimes.’</p>
<p>‘And my mom thinks you’re the responsible one.’ He yawned. ‘And I also can’t believe that I’m the one saying this, but it’s probably time for you to be quiet, and for us to go to bed.’</p>
<p>‘Spoilsport.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>‘Oh, is this this week’s ‘in’ night?’</p>
<p>Connor frowned at Matt from his bed. ‘What?’</p>
<p>‘I hardly see you most nights. You’re always out at some party or other, or doing something else, and, more often than not, you’re not here in the morning either.’</p>
<p>‘Well, I often have practice in the mornings. You’d still be asleep.’</p>
<p>‘I know when a bed’s not been slept in, Connor.’</p>
<p>Connor coloured. ‘Well, uh, yeah… I guess.’</p>
<p>Matt turned in his bed to face across the room to him. ‘I mean, it’s not a problem. I don’t mind having the room to myself. But, you know, you are doing OK, right?’</p>
<p>Connor essayed a self-satisfied smirk. ‘More than OK.’</p>
<p>Matt seemed unconvinced. ‘Once I found out you were on a sports team, I reckoned you’d be an early bird, but I didn’t expect that to be paired with you also being a night owl. Do you ever sleep?’</p>
<p>‘That’s why they make the seats in lectures comfy, right?’</p>
<p>Matt sighed. ‘I don’t think that’s a long-term solution to all this clubbing.’</p>
<p>‘I don’t go ‘clubbing’. It’s mostly just parties.’</p>
<p>‘You go to an awful lot of them.’</p>
<p>Connor shrugged. ‘Well, for one, I can drink, and, for another, the booze is free. No way I could afford to go to a bar in Samwell, even if I avoided getting carded. For two, I’m a <em>student</em>. Partying is what I’m meant to do. What you’re meant to do, too.’</p>
<p>‘And I do. But not every night.’ Matt sighed, and rolled back over to star at the ceiling. ‘Like, I’m not trying to have a go. I’m really not. You do what you want, and it’s none of my business. But I hope you’re doing it because you’re having fun, and not because you’re trying to avoid something else.’ he switched off his bedside light. ‘Anyway, good night.’</p>
<p>‘Night.’</p>
<p>Yeah, good talk, Matt. Cheers.</p>
<hr/>
<p>‘Did you see the desert island version of <em>Les Mis</em> that this lot did?’</p>
<p>‘I knew a couple of the people involved.’</p>
<p>‘It was so ill-conceived.’ She looked at the cast list without much enthusiasm. ‘At least this time round it’s not the freshmen who are in charge.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah. I wouldn’t trust me with anything that costs money, and I’m an economist.’</p>
<p>The girl – Ruby? – looked at him. ‘You do econ? Denice said you were cool.’</p>
<p>He snorted. ‘What else did she say about me?</p>
<p>‘She didn’t, really. I just asked if she knew anyone single. Then she said, “Oh, well, there’s probably Connor. He’s cool, I guess.” Like that. Then she gave me your number.’</p>
<p>‘That’s the kind of discerning vetting system I’m used to.’</p>
<p>She looked up from frowning at the cast list. ‘Huh?’</p>
<p>‘Nothing.’ He smiled. ‘You like musical theatre?’</p>
<p>She shrugged. ‘It’s fun. I’m not sure Samwell theatre productions are the place to go for high quality performances, but it’s a night out, you know?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah. You got a favourite musical?’</p>
<p>‘Oh,<em> Little Shop</em>. So funny.’</p>
<p>‘True. And so catchy.’ He hesitated. ‘Is it wrong to say that I kinda respect the plant?’</p>
<p>‘You can respect it.’ She grinned at him. ‘Just don’t feed it!’</p>
<p>He laughed. ‘Oh, I know…’</p>
<p>‘What about you?’</p>
<p>‘Oh, I’m a real sucker for the old-timey ones. <em>Carousel</em>.’</p>
<p>‘Dark.’</p>
<p>‘I guess. But, like, hopeful.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’</p>
<p>‘Hmm.’ She looked back down at her cast list. ‘Is that guy in this one?’ She snapped her fingers. ‘You know, the really hot one… Clyde, or something.’</p>
<p>‘Clint.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah. You know him?’</p>
<p>Connor tipped his head, and couldn’t suppress a smirk. ‘We’ve met.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah. Looked amazing, and had a pretty decent voice, but danced incredibly awkwardly. Like he had a limp or something.’</p>
<p>Connor bit his lip. ‘Which night did you see it?’</p>
<p>‘The Saturday. The … second day?’</p>
<p>Connor snorted.</p>
<p>‘What’s funny?’</p>
<p>‘Oh, nothing. I wonder if he’ll be a better dancer tonight.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>Thinking about his assignment due in later that day, Connor absent-mindedly banged his shoe against the bench before putting it on.</p>
<p>‘What’s that for?’ asked Tango, balling up his socks.</p>
<p>‘Hmm?’</p>
<p>‘That banging. I see you do it a lot. Like, all year.’</p>
<p>Connor frowned. ‘Oh. Habit, I guess.’</p>
<p>‘For…?’</p>
<p>‘Scorpions.’</p>
<p>‘<em>Scorpions</em>?’</p>
<p>‘I’m from Arizona. There are quite a lot.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, I always thought it was one of those things that you might see, so just had to beware of.’</p>
<p>‘Nah, where I live you’ll get them in the house the same way you get spiders. But it’s not a big deal. Like all of these things, they’re not actually aggressive.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Well, most of them.’</p>
<p>‘And are the ones you see, like, dangerous?’</p>
<p>‘Not really. You can see bark scorpions, which are the most dangerous ones, though. But they tend to stick to the desert. The ones in your house are normally less dangerous. Also, as with lots of these things, the bigger and scarier they look, the less dangerous they actually are.’</p>
<p>‘Really. That just sound like a thing people say just before something terrifying comes out from under the bed.’</p>
<p>Connor laughed. ‘Maybe. I guess it could be freaky, if you’re not used to it.’ He shrugged. ‘I lived there for 18 years, and I was only stung badly once.’ He winced at the memory. ‘I don’t know by what kind. Hurt like hell. My ankle swelled up for, like, a week and a half.’</p>
<p>‘How old were you?’</p>
<p>‘14? 15? Something like that. Mom –’ He paused.</p>
<p>‘What?’ Tango frowned. ‘You just kind-of stopped there.’</p>
<p>Connor blinked. ‘Oh, uh, I was just remembering it. Mom went on this massive anti-scorpion drive. Got all this stuff to keep them away.’ His mouth twitched. ‘Did not work. Within the week we were back to finding them all over the place.’</p>
<p>Tony raised his eyebrows. ‘May not jump at the chance to visit you in Arizona.’</p>
<p>‘Who says you’d be invited?’ said Connor, prodding his friend’s knee. ‘Anyway, you ready to head on out?’</p>
<p>‘Yup.’ Tango looked around the locker room. ‘Why are we always last?’</p>
<p>‘Because you have to fold all your clothes up into teeny tiny squares.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, right. And there was me thinking it was you styling every single one of your hairs individually.’</p>
<p>‘Lies.’ Connor held the door open for his friend. ‘I pay no more than a normal amount of attention to my hair.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, OK. Then you won’t mind this.’ Tango ruffled Connor’s hair, and then took off out of Faber.</p>
<p>‘No! Shit! What did you – Tango!’</p>
<p>Connor ran after him, and caught up before the end of the path.</p>
<p>‘That was wrong.’</p>
<p>Tony cackled, half bent-over. ‘The horror in your eyes: “Not the hair!”.’</p>
<p>‘Shut up.’</p>
<p>Tango mimed zipping his mouth shut, and they carried on walking, though he occasionally continued to look at Connor and giggle.</p>
<p>‘My hair is great.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, yeah, absolutely. Will not touch the sacred strands again.’ Tony bumped Connor’s shoulder with his own.</p>
<p>‘Damn straight.’</p>
<p>A bit more silence as they rounded the corner towards the dorms.</p>
<p>‘Hey, Tango?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah?’</p>
<p>‘Like, if there’s anything you need, ever, you know that you can count on me, right?’</p>
<p>‘’Course.’</p>
<p>Connor nodded curtly. ‘Good. Because I’m here for whatever you need.’ He looked away. ‘I, uh, just wanted to make sure that that was clear.’</p>
<p>Tango looked at him sideways. ‘Why?’</p>
<p>Connor rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. ‘Well, I just feel that you get so much of my shit. You don’t deserve that. And, like, that’s not friendship. That’s me taking advantage of you as an emotional vent. And that’s not cool. So, well, this is reciprocal, you know?’</p>
<p>Tony looked at him solemnly. ‘If I ever have shit, then you’ll be the first to know.’</p>
<p>‘Cool.’</p>
<p>Tony held out his fist. Connor bumped it.</p>
<p>‘How’re things going with that girl you were seeing?’</p>
<p>‘Oh. We broke up.’</p>
<p>‘Sorry about that.’</p>
<p>‘No big deal. We’re still going to be friends.’</p>
<p>‘Huh.’</p>
<p>‘You?’</p>
<p>‘What?’</p>
<p>‘You seeing anyone special?’</p>
<p>‘Er… No,’ said Connor. ‘Not seeing anyone special.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>Connor was walking Chad back towards the lacrosse house, when he suddenly stopped and slapped a hand to his forehead. ‘Oh! I can’t come to your next game – I’ve got a match of my own.’</p>
<p>‘Wow – I didn’t even know you were on a team! What do you even play?’</p>
<p>‘Uh, hockey…’</p>
<p>Chad laughed. ‘How did I not guess that?’</p>
<p>‘What, you think I’m like them?’</p>
<p>‘No – no – just, you know.’ He wiggled his eyebrows.</p>
<p>Connor raised his. ‘I don’t, no.’</p>
<p>‘Big and emotional.’</p>
<p>Connor held Chad’s gaze coolly. Then Chad spluttered into snorts of laughter.</p>
<p>‘Yeah, sorry, I, uh, thought I could – ha! – hold that in for longer…’</p>
<p>Connor started walking again. ‘I have never been more offended in my life.’</p>
<p>‘I’m sorry, dude.’</p>
<p>‘It’s like we’d never met.’</p>
<p>‘Again, I’m sorry…’</p>
<p>‘Like you didn’t even know me.’</p>
<p>‘Connor…’</p>
<p>Connor stopped suddenly again, and Chad ran into his back. He turned round to face him. ‘You don’t mind?’</p>
<p>Chad grinned. ‘For you? Nah.’ He leaned in. ‘Also, and this is a secret, our real enemies are the footballers.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>‘… I just don’t get him, you know,’ Holster shook his head. ‘He’s just … does he think he’s better than us, or that we should come to him, or –’</p>
<p>‘Maybe you two can stop whaling on an eighteen year old all the time?’</p>
<p>Ransom and Holster turned as one. ‘What do you mean, Nursey?’</p>
<p>‘You’re always having a go at Whiskey.’</p>
<p>‘He’s always doing something wrong. And he doesn’t respect the team ethos.’</p>
<p>‘Well, maybe that’s because much of the team ethos that he experiences is directed at making him feel bad, or trying to band the other Tadpoles together without him.’</p>
<p>‘It’s not our fault if he refuses to engage with them.’</p>
<p>‘But it is your fault if you don’t recognise that that’s not the kind of person he is. Some people don’t appreciate an enforced team spirit.’</p>
<p>‘But he doesn’t want to show any team spirit. He just looks through everyone as if they don’t matter.’</p>
<p>‘I don’t think that’s true. He just has trouble opening up to people.’ Nursey shrugged. ‘You remember what Dex was like. But Whiskey –’ Nursey shook his head. ‘There’s something not right there. He’s <em>too</em> reticent. Too jumpy about personal information.’</p>
<p>‘His personal business is his business. But we have to think about what he’s like with the team.’</p>
<p>‘I’m pretty sure those are interconnected, Ransom,’ said Nursey.</p>
<p>‘But it’s also just the basic stuff where he doesn’t show the team enough respect,’ said Holster. ‘He’s always late.’</p>
<p>‘He’s not <em>always</em> late,’ said Nursey. ‘Just sometimes. And never more than a few minutes. Definitely less late, overall than, say, me…’ He shook his head. ‘He’s never missed a practice. Not even through illness. He always does all the drills, and you can’t say that he doesn’t work as hard as anyone else. He’s sure as hell not slacking – and, if what he does in games is slacking, then the rest of this team must be fucking supine.’</p>
<p>Ransom and Holster both raised their eyebrows at that, but Nursey ploughed on.</p>
<p>‘I think the fact that he’s scored about a quarter of all our goals this season suggests that he does, in fact, care about the team. And it’s not like he hates everyone. He clearly gets along well with Tango.’ Nursey let out a long breath, and looked hard at both his captains. ‘I’m just saying that if he doesn’t always associate the team with getting made to feel like an outsider, maybe he’ll stop being one. It’s probably too late for him to like you now, but you can maybe make him feel welcome on his own terms. He’s going to be on this team for the next three years after this – he can’t hate being here for that long.’</p>
<p>The other two were, for once, quiet.</p>
<p>‘That’s all I had to say on that.’ Nursey turned away. ‘Be better, guys. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>‘Where’s your friend?’ asked Matt.</p>
<p>‘Tango was just here…?’</p>
<p>‘No, not your hockey friend. Your scary friend.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, Denice. She’s not that scary.’</p>
<p>‘Has you wrapped round her little finger. Must be scary.’</p>
<p>Connor was going to make some kind of come back to that, but then realised that it was almost entirely accurate. Moving on… ‘She’s at some kind of job interview, I think.’</p>
<p>‘For what?’</p>
<p>‘I dunno. I didn’t ask. Do you ask all your friends about their personal lives?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah.’</p>
<p>‘You never ask me.’</p>
<p>‘Connor, how’s working at the campus bookstore?’</p>
<p>‘Boring, thanks for asking.’</p>
<p>‘See.’ Matt grinned. ‘That’s why I don’t bother asking.’</p>
<p>‘Fair.’ Connor glanced at his watch. ‘Shit. I have to get the Art Department.’</p>
<p>‘I still find it surprising that you’re taking Contemporary Art.’</p>
<p>Connor shrugged. ‘I have depths.’</p>
<p>‘Like a submarine…’</p>
<hr/>
<p>There was free coffee in the art department. Well, there was a permanently boiling pot of black in a kitchen that was accessible to students, which was virtually the same thing. So that was why Connor and Lardo met up there most of the time.</p>
<p>They talked, mostly, about things that weren’t hockey, or the hockey team. Mostly. Not always.</p>
<p>‘… I actually do like Bitty. But the whole expecting to be liked thing – it’s like dealing with a puppy that needs petted all the time.’</p>
<p>‘You like Chowder, dude.’</p>
<p>‘Everybody likes Chowder. That’s different. Also, there’s the whole exaggerated Southern thing. Tango doesn’t do that! And I’m from further south than any of them.’</p>
<p>‘You know that’s a culturally different thing. You’re more from the Wild West than the South.’</p>
<p>‘I mean, I literally lived about an hour from the O.K. Corral.’</p>
<p>‘It shows, to be honest.’ She lowered her glasses. ‘But I get what you mean. First few times I met him, I wasn’t sure about him. All seemed like a front. I knew about the YouTube channel. Figured he was projecting this persona all the time.’</p>
<p>‘That’s exactly it. It’s like you don’t know if you’re speaking to Bitty or some collection of traits that he thinks will win you over.’ Connor shuddered. ‘It rubs me up the wrong way.’</p>
<p>‘I think he is genuine. I also think that it’s a kind of personality that doesn’t sit well with everyone. Like, it’s totally different from mine, and I suspect yours, and to such an extent that it’s hard to imagine how a person could be like that.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah.’</p>
<p>‘And, if you can’t imagine someone really being like that, then it has to be an act, right?’</p>
<p>‘Right. I try to give him the benefit of the doubt, but…’</p>
<p>‘It takes time. But you don’t have to be his best buddy.’ She leaned forward. ‘Now, tell me about your date with Veronica. I hear it went with rather more bite than you could have hoped for.’</p>
<p>Connor flushed. ‘<em>How</em> did you find that out? She promised – she was just as embarrassed about as I – it really <em>hurt</em>!’</p>
<p>Lardo cackled. ‘I have my sources. Now, spill. Has pissing been incredibly painful?’</p>
<p>‘Have I ever told you that I hate these conversations?’</p>
<p>‘Almost every week, friend.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>People made fun of the Arizona thing, or were at least a bit sceptical about it. Yeah, maybe it was a bit unexpected to be into hockey in the desert – and it’s not like the whole state was one big desert – but there had been quite a lot of investment in the sport over the last decade, a lot of equipment donated to schools, quite a few hockey clubs set up. It was nowhere near as popular as up in the north – there were maybe four times as many rinks in Massachusetts as Arizona – and most people played football still.</p>
<p>But it was hardly a hockey wasteland. There was <em>a </em>team. Many states didn’t even get that.</p>
<p>So it pissed him off a bit. Stupid New Englanders. Spoilt Canadians. Just because there’s snow doesn’t mean you can ski.</p>
<p>That said, he didn’t know why his mom had taken him skating that first time. They never normally did things like that. It was spontaneous. They’d been passing the rink, and his mom had just driven in, parked up, and taken him inside.</p>
<p>He didn’t remember all that much about it, but he remembered his first steps on the ice. And then, shortly after, his first fall on the ice. He didn’t really understand what to do. His mom had strapped him into his skates, and he’d wobbled to the rink. Then, holding her, and the side, he went onto the ice.</p>
<p>He didn’t know when or where she had learnt to skate. Never asked. He’d never actually thought about it. It was clear, he supposed, that she had done it enough to be confident on the ice. He supposed that it had been figure skating, if there had been any organised background to her skating at all. But, after that first time, he didn’t really remember her going out onto the ice all that much. She must have done – but he couldn’t have said when the last time was. It wasn’t like they went skating as a family. His dad never skated, as far as he could remember. Only really came to games once he was captain. And then all his skating had been directed towards hockey. There was never really all that much time for skating for fun.</p>
<p>The feeling had been amazing. Moving without effort. The way it was totally different to being on the ground. The way the slightest movements affected your position, your direction – your stability. And, despite all the thickness of leather and plastic and metal, you could feel everything. You could feel where the blade was on the ice. And though, that time, he’d fallen, again, and again, he hadn’t let it bother him. He just got back up, and tried again. His mom had showed him ways of keeping his balance, teaching him that keeping moving was always the best guarantee of keeping upright. She was on the point of showing him how to turn when the public session had come to an end, and a training session started. Connor had been so dazzled by the experience, jabbering away about it to his mom as they left the ice, that he hadn’t really paid attention to the hockey team that passed them going on to the ice. He wouldn’t, at that stage, have even known what hockey was.</p>
<p>After that, he’d begged his parents to take him back there. It had taken some persistence, but eventually they had. And things had just spiralled from there. A few more public sessions with his mom, learning the basics. And then, when he was a little bit older, actual lessons. It was to be supposed that he could have gone down the figure-skating route at that stage. It might have been a little odd, but it was plausible. But that had also been the time when he’d started paying attention to the hockey practices that were usually coming to a close when his lessons started. And they fascinated him. He just loved the game. And he started watching it at home. At first, he didn’t know what was going on, but as he watched it more and more, he began to see the potential in the game, and what part he’d like to play in it. And, to the slightly surprised, somewhat resigned, and only eventually enthusiastic reaction of his parents, there was no going back.</p>
<p>Once he was old enough, he joined the kids’ team. He was the youngest there, but it was a good environment, with an unexpectedly great coach, and the focus was on how the team could work together well. His first skating teacher had always said that he was a good skater, even ‘a natural’, but he had assumed that that was just something she said to the parents of every kid that she was paid to teach. Yes, he had been cynical even then. But then the coach said something similar, and then, most surprising of all, so did his teammates. As a kid, impressing your peers was worth far more than impressing qualified and experienced adults. Connor had been delighted. He’d been good at things before, and mostly passable at others, but this was the first time he’d been really great at something. And it had started to show.</p>
<p>It was on the team that he’d discovered speed. How to get from one end of the rink without anyone realising that you were coming. How to turn so fast that your front and back skates are still pointing in different directions. How to swerve, and dodge, and skate almost sideways. Backwards, sometimes. And then all the other things about hockey. Stick-handling, different kinds of shots, how to read your opponents, how to deal with losing, and with winning, how to keep your head in the game, for the whole game. How to work with other people. Game sense. Tactics. Sportsmanship.</p>
<p>And, eventually, to his surprise, leadership. And then, well, the tantalising hope – the smidgen of a dream – that this might also be a future. A life as well as a hobby. Murmured talk of the draft, more serious (and, obviously, fruitful) talk of scholarships to college. That this thing that he’d come to almost by accident could be the thing to set him up for life – it seemed almost too good to be true. And hockey had been the one constant thing that had never turned out to be too good to be true. It was exactly as good as it promised to be.</p>
<hr/>
<p> ‘What are they like? Any I should look out for?’</p>
<p>‘Well,’ said Lardo, ‘I guess you already know about them being big and emotional.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah,’ said Denice. She shifted from one foot to the other in the hallway outside what sounded like a very big and emotional kitchen.</p>
<p>‘That’s mostly what our boys are like.’ Lardo thought. ‘You already met Dex. He can be prickly, but he thinks you’re competent, so you’re already in a good place with him. Olly and Wicks keep to themselves, but are good guys. Everybody loves Chowder. Nursey’s not as bad as he might initially seem. But it’ll be the next generation that you’ll really need to work with. This year’s freshmen.’</p>
<p>The blonde kid she remembered from the interview came out of the kitchen, bringing with him a strong waft of pastry. ‘Hey, Lardo. Dex and Nursey need Managed.’</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m on it.’ Lardo caught Denice’s eye. ‘Have you ever worked with children? Much of this job is a lot like that.’</p>
<p>‘Hey!’ said Bitty, but Lardo was gone.</p>
<p>Denice waited awkwardly for a few moments. She wondered what was going on in the kitchen that needed Managing. ‘So,’ she said, getting Bitty to look up from whatever on the floor was interesting him, ‘Lardo was just about to tell me about you freshmen?’</p>
<p>‘Tango’s a sweet kid. Asks a lot of questions,’ said Bitty. ‘And Mittens and Douglas aren’t around all that much, ‘cause they’re in, like, pre-med, and, some kind of part-time internship thing, I think, but they’re here today.’ He hesitated. ‘There is maybe one.’ His forehead creased a little. ‘I don’t wanna be down on anyone, but, well, don’t be disappointed if you get nothing out of Whiskey. I’ve been trying all year, but it’s like getting water out of concrete.’</p>
<p>‘Whiskey?’</p>
<p>‘He’ll be the one with an expression like he’d rather be anywhere else.’</p>
<p>Lardo re-emerged. ‘Crisis over. Chill restored. Egos deflated. Children playing nicely again.’ She smiled, and took Denice by the arm. ‘Come on. Time to meet your people.’</p>
<p>They went through the door together. Lardo stepped up onto a chair, tipping a guy several times her size out of it in order to do so.</p>
<p>‘Hey, everyone,’ said Lardo. ‘This is your new manager, Denice Ford. Be nice.’</p>
<p>‘Oi!’ said Nursey. ‘We’re lovely!’</p>
<p>‘I was talking to her.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>She’d had been there for 40 minutes or so, had chatted with just about everyone, though with no sign of the one who Nursey had described as ‘a bit standoffish’ and ‘not really a surprise if he doesn’t show’. Then, as she was helping herself to the surviving mini pie, which had somehow gotten forgotten near the door, there was a commotion in the hallway –</p>
<p>‘Shit – now I remember that it was at 3, not 3:30 – I think we might be really late, Whiskey –’</p>
<p>A kid she vaguely remembered from her interview came through the kitchen door, talking to someone behind him.</p>
<p>‘Is this the one who scared you half to –’</p>
<p>Connor and Denice stared at each other.</p>
<p>‘What the fuck.’</p>
<p>Denice nodded. ‘What the actual fuck.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah. You’re the new manager?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah. You play hockey?’</p>
<p>‘Uh. Yeah.’  </p>
<p>‘Yeah.’</p>
<p>The guy who’d come in first, looked repeatedly between the two of them, looking like he had a million questions.</p>
<p>‘How did you – why didn’t you tell me?’ asked Connor.</p>
<p>She stared at him. ‘All I did was not tell you exactly what sort of job I was applying for. It turns out there’s a massive chunk of your life that you’ve kept secret, Con.’</p>
<p>‘Um. I guess.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Not really secret. I just didn’t tell you.’ He tipped his head. ‘You wanted to be the manager of the hockey team?’</p>
<p>She shrugged. ‘I thought it seemed like an interesting thing to get involved in. Why do you play hockey?’</p>
<p>He shrugged. ‘I’m really good at it.’</p>
<p>‘Really.’</p>
<p>‘Really, really.’</p>
<p>She looked at the boy next to him, whose mouth seemed almost to be moving with the questions he wanted to ask. ‘Is he bullshitting me?’</p>
<p>Tango blinked. ‘No – no, Whiskey’s amazing!’ He frowned. ‘Have you two met before?’</p>
<p>Connor snorted. ‘She’s someone –</p>
<p>‘– I tolerate.’ She shook her head, still not really believing what she was seeing. ‘Hockey. Huh. I just didn’t…’ She looked him up and down. ‘You seem too small.’</p>
<p>‘You have met Bitty, right?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah. I guess.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘And you’re the one they call Whiskey.’</p>
<p>‘They do do that, yes.’</p>
<p>‘And you like being called that?’</p>
<p>‘It appears to be unavoidable.’ He sighed. ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’</p>
<p>‘Really?’</p>
<p>‘Oh, yeah. Everyone gets a nickname.’</p>
<p>‘I’m pretty sure I just met a guy called Douglas.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, that’s not his name. He’s actually called Hector.’</p>
<p>‘And you, I presume, are the famous Tango?’</p>
<p>Tango went pale. ‘Oh. Yes.’ He made a weird little half-bow. ‘Tony Tangredi. Do you need something, uh, ma’am?’</p>
<p>She laughed. ‘You’re sweet when you’re nervous.’</p>
<p>‘How am I, um, “famous”?’</p>
<p>‘Con talks about you quite a lot. But, again –’ She kicked her friend ‘– no mention of the hockey.’</p>
<p>‘First, ow. Second, do you now understand why I need all my limbs? Third, it was, and I say it sort-of again, not really relevant to the description of our relationship.’</p>
<p>Denice gave him an unimpressed look. ‘Anything else that you’re keeping quiet? Or is this your last secret?’</p>
<p>Connor’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head very slightly, almost imperceptibly. She nodded, in an equally tiny movement.</p>
<p>‘Any murders that I should know about?’</p>
<p>‘Oh, Whiskey’s definitely the team murderer,’ said Nursey, breezing into the conversation. ‘He spends an unhealthy amount of time in the woods, I’ve noticed.’</p>
<p>‘Just because they don’t have the outdoors in New York doesn’t mean that you need to be afraid of it Nurse,’ said Dex, somehow always within complaining distance of Derek. ‘Some people would regard it as a healthy interest in nature, and not as something to be suspicious of.’</p>
<p>‘Bumpkin.’</p>
<p>‘City boy.’</p>
<p>‘That’s not really an insult.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, it is where I come from.’</p>
<p>Connor raised an eyebrow at Denice. She raised one back.</p>
<p>‘You three getting on OK, then?’ asked Nursey, breaking off from his bickering.</p>
<p>‘Oh, well enough.’ She prodded Connor. ‘It turns out that this guy has been my friend for this whole year without telling me that he’s on the hockey team. Even when I applied for a job managing the team.’</p>
<p>‘You never said that it was the hockey team!’ He frowned. ‘Also, did you not even check the team roster before coming today?’</p>
<p>‘Like I could be bothered scrolling all the way down to ‘W’.’</p>
<p>‘Well, he definitely did not let on that he had any friends beyond Tango, so I guess the not telling people anything is directed at all of us.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah,’ she said, almost fondly. ‘He’s a secretive soul.’</p>
<p>‘I prefer the term “private person”.’</p>
<p>Dex patted Tony on the shoulder. ‘Good luck.’</p>
<p>They wandered off, and were almost immediately bickering about something.</p>
<p>‘So…’ She leaned in towards Tango. ‘Given that we’re Con’s best friends in the hitherto entirely separate spheres of his life, shall we trade embarrassing stories about him?’</p>
<p>Tony grinned. ‘Cool. So, you know the pond, right? And you know how Whiskey is obsessed with his hair? So, what happened –’</p>
<p>Connor considered just banging his head against the wall. But he knew that that would put an end neither to Tony’s inborn inquisitiveness or to Denice’s desire to mock him. So he laughed at the appropriate moments of the stories, and made a few half-hearted corrections, and two spluttered outright denials.</p>
<p>‘Foxtrot,’ he said, suddenly.</p>
<p>Tango and Denice looked at him, puzzled. ‘What?’</p>
<p>‘Your nickname – Ford.’ He pointed to them each in turn. ‘Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.’</p>
<p>‘Oh.’ She tipped her head. ‘I don’t hate it.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘You know this does commit us to being a unit, though, right? There’s no getting away from that if we do this.’</p>
<p>Connor looked at Tango, and shrugged. ‘I’m happy with that. Tango?’</p>
<p>Tango nodded, hesitant. ‘Sure – I – I – if that’s OK with you?’ he asked Denice.</p>
<p>Denice laughed. ‘If we’re sure that we want to be stuck with Connor, Tango, then I guess we can make do. Also, we can be what the fuck for short.’</p>
<p>Whiskey grinned. ‘Exactly.’</p>
<p>‘I’d like to take the opportunity to note that ‘what the fuck’ was also my first reaction when it turned out that you two knew each other already,’ said Tango.</p>
<p>‘Good. Then that’s settled.’ She nudged Connor. ‘You know, they warned me about you.’</p>
<p>‘Really.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah. Said you were standoffish.’</p>
<p>‘Well, they were right.’</p>
<p>‘This is really weird. He’s not like this at all with me.’</p>
<p>‘Really? What happens to my black-hearted sarcastic Connor?’</p>
<p>‘Oh, well, that’s not that different, though maybe a bit less, but he talks way more with you around than just with me.’</p>
<p>‘Not sure I get the chance…’ said Connor, smirking slightly.</p>
<p>‘Well, I’m sure in time we can make him as sweet as pie,’ said Denice.</p>
<p>Connor’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, never say that –’</p>
<p>‘Hi, you three!’ said Bitty. ‘Did someone say ‘pie’?’</p>
<p>Connor exchanged glances with Foxtrot. She seemed as wary of Bitty’s sudden appearance as Connor usually was. ‘Oh, er, no. Just an expression.’</p>
<p>‘I hope Connor’s not been your only impression of the team!’ He tugged on her arm. ‘Come on! I’ll show you round the rest of the guys. They’re much more outgoing – probably more like the people you know from theatre.’ He smiled at them, and then pulled Denice away by the sheer force of his enthusiasm.</p>
<p>She waved at the both. ‘See you…’</p>
<p>‘Goodbye, Foxtrot…’ said Tango. Connor just twitched an eyebrow, leaving her to her fater.</p>
<p>‘Oh!’ exclaimed Bitty, stopping. Denice crashed into him. He turned back, face half-excited, half-disappointed. ‘Has Tango already given you a hockey nickname?’</p>
<p>‘Oh, uh, no, it was Con’s – Whiskey’s idea.’</p>
<p>‘Oh? Really? Huh.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>Chad (M.) had a boyfriend now. It was disgusting. They went on cute little study dates, used pet names, and performed so much PDA that he was half-expecting Adrian’s teeth to get sucked out.</p>
<p>And he would talk about him, which was worst of all. Waxing lyrical on the wonders of having a stable relationship.</p>
<p>Connor could have a stable relationship if he wanted to. But he didn’t.</p>
<p>He. Didn’t.</p>
<p>OK?</p>
<hr/>
<p>He was kind-of regretting not being around so much, if these pies were actually a regular thing, and not some weird in-joke. Say what you like about Bitty – and, under his breath, he often did – but he was actually good at baking.</p>
<p>Maybe he’d even check out that fucking YouTube channel. Yeah. Maybe.</p>
<p>He sat down on the top step at the front of Haus.</p>
<p>‘We will win next year, Tango.’</p>
<p>He was determined that that would be true.</p>
<p>Tango nodded, and settled on the next step down. They didn’t talk, just ate pie. Connor leaned his head back against the wooden post, and closed his eyes. The sun was warm. He wondered if this was as hot as Samwell got. Presumably it never got anywhere near Tucson weather. Which was probably no bad thing.</p>
<p>‘Hey.’</p>
<p>Connor opened his eyes, to see Tango look up, and grin.</p>
<p>‘Oh, hey, Foxtrot!’</p>
<p>Connor looked around, down the front garden, and frowned. ‘Why are you standing over there? Like, on the sidewalk?’</p>
<p>‘Well…’ she looked a bit sheepish. ‘I wasn’t sure if this was the sort of thing –’</p>
<p>‘No, no – come on!’ said Tango. ‘There’s pie!’ He looked down at his scraped plate, and then slightly worried. ‘Well – there was pie –’ He jumped up. ‘I’ll be right back!’</p>
<p>Connor couldn’t help but laugh as he vanished into the Haus. He looked back at Denice, who was still hovering awkwardly. He jerked his head, and shifted his feet across the step. ‘Do come and sit down, Denice.’</p>
<p>‘In your muddy footprints? Charming.’</p>
<p>But she came over anyway, and then sat on his feet.</p>
<p>‘Um. Ouch.’</p>
<p>‘I’ve seen you get smacked into the boards by someone twice your size, shrug it off, and score. You’ll live.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, but what if I want to thrive?’</p>
<p>‘I suggest drugs.’</p>
<p>‘As my new manager, I’m going to take that as an instruction.’ He took a long, exaggerated sniff. ‘I’ll be swinging from the beams of Faber.’ He patted her shoulders. ‘But what had you all awkward about coming over?’</p>
<p>‘I’m just not sure how part of the team I am. Like, I don’t play hockey. I just work here.’</p>
<p>‘They definitely want you as part of the team. That’s why they made you the manager.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘If you even mention that you don’t feel part of the team they’ll roll out some massive parade for you. Or something. It’ll be massively embarrassing.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, but I didn’t really know whether that was for social stuff, or just, you know, the logistics of shunting you lot around the country.’ She sighed. ‘Like, am I welcome at team breakfasts? Other team meals? Nights out? Kegsters?’</p>
<p>‘I mean, those are all things that I famously don’t go to.’ He tipped his head. ‘But being part of the team is not something I’ve often felt much, so I don’t think I’m the right person to ask about this.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, but we all know that you’re an antisocial grump.’</p>
<p>‘Loud and proud.’ He grinned at her, then let his face drop back to neutral as he heard Tony coming back down the hall.</p>
<p>‘Hey, so, they had eaten the pie that we had, but Bitty had made another one just – just because, I think – so I brought you some of that. Is that OK?’ Tango held out a plate, going slightly pink about the ears.</p>
<p>Denice smiled. ‘That’ll be perfect. Thanks, Tango.’ She took the plate, and then frowned at the green colour of the filling. ‘Er…’</p>
<p>‘Kiwi and lime,’ supplied Tango.</p>
<p>‘Right…’</p>
<p>Connor watched, amused, as she took a cautious bite.</p>
<p>Her face lit up. ‘Fuck. That’s actually amazing.’</p>
<p>Tango sat down on the top step. He had another slice of pie, too. ‘Why are you sitting on Whiskey’s feet?’</p>
<p>‘He deserves it.’</p>
<p>‘Oh. Do you?’</p>
<p>‘Well, if I don’t right now, I guess I will at some point.’ He shrugged. ‘I am resigned to this sort of treatment.’</p>
<p>She knocked the back of her head against his knees. ‘Right you are. A well-trained boy.’</p>
<p>‘Woof.’</p>
<p>Tango’s eyes flicked from one to the other, quite baffled. ‘Is this the only way you interact?’</p>
<p>‘Sometimes there’s actual physical beatings,’ said Connor, his face expressionless.</p>
<p>‘But only if he asks me really nicely for them,’ said Denice around a mouthful of pie. She caught Tony’s eye, and winked. His face twisted a little, went red, and he sat down very rapidly.</p>
<p>‘Please don’t tell me any more information.’</p>
<p>‘I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise for you,’ said Connor, enjoying the horrified squirm that the words brought out in Tony.</p>
<p>‘Um. Thanks?’</p>
<p>Denice rolled her eyes. ‘Stop teasing him, Connor.’ She twisted round to look at them both, ‘So, I don’t really know much about hockey. Why was this gathering held?’</p>
<p>‘Oh, yeah, so we’re trying to feel better about not making the playoffs.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, that doesn’t help much. What does that mean?’</p>
<p>Connor looked up into the roof of the porch. They really ought to clean up there. Probably cigarette smoke. ‘There’s the regular season of matches, and, if we do well enough in them, then there’s another a set of matches to determine which is the best college team in the country.’</p>
<p>‘And you didn’t do well enough?’</p>
<p>‘Not quite. Hence the pie.’</p>
<p>‘But Bitty makes pie anyway,’ said Tango, mouth still sort of full. ‘Like, there’s literally no reason that would not, in his head, warrant pie.’</p>
<p>‘Oh.’</p>
<p>‘Bitty is odd,’ said Connor.</p>
<p>‘Huh.’</p>
<p>‘This is my response.’ He looked over at Tango. ‘Tango’s is to eat as much pie as possible.’</p>
<p>‘He’s not going to be here forever!’</p>
<p>‘You can say that again,’ muttered Connor.</p>
<p>‘So, what happens now?’ asked Ford. ‘Hockey-wise.’</p>
<p>‘Hockey is over. We just go back to regular college stuff.’</p>
<p>‘Sit around and eat pie,’ she said, waving her fork in the air.</p>
<p>‘Yup. Until Tango has to buy new trousers. Maybe not even then.’</p>
<p>‘Oi!’ said Tango, not really helping his case by spraying it through another mouthful of pie.</p>
<p>‘Don’t worry about it. We’ll tell Chowder he’s not needed and just roll you into the goal next season.’</p>
<p>‘And when does the hockey season start again?’</p>
<p>Connor rolled his eyes. ‘I can’t believe you became manager of a hockey team without even being that into hockey.’</p>
<p>‘What can I say? I’m open to new things.’ She prodded them both. ‘Anyway, you two are my hockey cheat-sheets.’</p>
<p>‘Do we get good rooms on roadies in return?’</p>
<p>‘What? Am I seriously in charge of that?’</p>
<p>Connor shook his head. ‘Did Lardo tell you anything?’</p>
<p>‘Ugh. There’s an email.’</p>
<hr/>
<p>‘Why did I bring so much stuff?’</p>
<p>‘I feel like I raised this issue nine months ago.’</p>
<p>Matt looked at Connor’s two bags, leaning neatly against each other on his stripped bed.</p>
<p>‘How do you have so little? I just don’t get it.’</p>
<p>‘Necessity.’ Connor raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re definitely going to have to cut stuff down for when you go to France.’</p>
<p>‘I know…’ groaned Matt. ‘And I’ll be judged so hard for what I’m going to wear.’</p>
<p>‘They’ll be judging you because you’re an American, and the clothes won’t make any difference.’</p>
<p>‘If I’d been born in the next hospital I’d have been Canadian. That would solve so many problems.’</p>
<p>Connor laughed. ‘And create the new one of being Canadian.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘If I’d been born in the next hospital, I’d probably be Mexican.’ He flopped back on his bed. ‘Why are you even going to France? What’re you going to learn about engineering in French?’</p>
<p>‘Hey, it’s the home of massive infrastructure projects. Nuclear power stations. High-speed rail networks. The tallest bridge in the world. And, like, croissants. That’s engineering in pastry right there.’</p>
<p>‘Maybe you should tell that to my new captain and he’ll go there instead next year.’</p>
<p>‘Pie guy? You elected pie guy captain?’</p>
<p>‘Turns out baking people pie for years is a real vote winner.’</p>
<p>‘Shit. You’d better get on that, then, if you want it.’</p>
<p>‘I don’t want it.’</p>
<p>Matt snorted. ‘Ceci n’est pas a total lie.’</p>
<p>‘Nice to know you got something out of reading me my art flashcards.’</p>
<p>‘Who did you vote for instead of pie guy?’</p>
<p>‘Oh, no, I did vote for Bitty.’</p>
<p>‘But I thought you hated him?’</p>
<p>‘I don’t hate him.’ Connor hummed. ‘I just – we’re just very different people. But it was really clear that everyone else was going to vote for him, and if I didn’t, he’d know it was me, and then next year would be totally shit.’ He shrugged. ‘Besides, the pies are actually pretty good.’</p>
<p>Matt rolled his eyes. ‘Well, I hope they’re worth it. I pity your next roommate for all the whingeing they’re going to get from you.’</p>
<p>Connor pulled a face. ‘I wish you weren’t going to France. Now I have to get to know a whole new person.’</p>
<p>Chuckling, Matt continued to wrestle with his clothes. ‘A whole new person. How will you cope?’ He frowned. ‘Why didn’t you go in with your friend Tony?’</p>
<p>‘I didn’t ask him until too late and he’d already moved in with someone else…’ Connor sighed. ‘Have you sorted out accommodation for France –’</p>
<p>Matt’s phone buzzed. He checked it. ‘Shit – Mom and Dad are here.’ He looked around at the mess of the room. ‘And I’m nowhere near done…’</p>
<p>‘You could just set fire to it.’</p>
<p>‘Thanks. I’ll bear that in mind.’</p>
<p>Connor shouldered his bag. ‘Well, I have a train to the airport to catch.’ He hovered awkwardly between his bed and the door. ‘Uh, so, I guess –’</p>
<p>Matt looked up. ‘You’re going right now?’</p>
<p>‘Uh, yeah.  Sorry I can’t stay, and –’</p>
<p>Before he could finish, Matt pulled him into a one-armed hug. Connor belatedly reciprocated. ‘It’s been good to get to know you this year!’</p>
<p>Connor pulled away. ‘Yeah. Likewise.’ He smiled. ‘I hope you have a really good time next year. And, uh, I guess I’ll see you when you come back.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah. Keep in touch!’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, I will.’ Connor went over to the door and waved. ‘Um. See you, then.’</p>
<p>‘Have a great summer!’</p>
<p>Yeah. Like that was likely. Connor pushed on a smile, then headed for the stairs. The muffled sound of swearing and zips started up behind him.</p>
<p>Downstairs, Connor nodded to Matt’s parents. ‘Hey. I’d, er, find somewhere for a coffee for a bit. He’s –’</p>
<p>‘Not packed?’ asked Matt’s dad.</p>
<p>‘Not even close.’</p>
<p>Matt’s mom shook her head. ‘Why am I not surprised?’</p>
<p>Connor grinned sheepishly on his friend’s behalf. ‘I’m sure he’ll be done at some point…’ He paused, and then nodded to them both. ‘Good to see you again.’ He turned abruptly, and walked off in the direction of the train station.</p>
<p>‘Matt was so lucky to have such a quiet, polite roommate. Could have had a real party animal, out every night…’</p>
<p>Connor kept on walking, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Connor pulled away. ‘Before we go any further, can I ask you something?’</p>
<p>‘I’m clean, sweetheart!’ The guy grinned, breath slightly alcohol-ly. ‘I can show you the doctor’s note giving me the all-clear, if you like? It’s from, like, only three months ago.’</p>
<p>Sort-of ew.</p>
<p>‘No. Though that’s, er, good to know.’ He turned on the sofa. ‘I was just wondering if we could check a hockey match?’</p>
<p>‘A hockey match? Why – is there something special on?’</p>
<p>‘I mean. Kinda. It’s the Stanley Cup.’</p>
<p>‘And is that good?’</p>
<p>‘It’s the best.’</p>
<p>‘Go ahead.’</p>
<p>Connor leaned over the guy – eugh, he smelled bad, and this was comi//ng from someone who’d not had his own bathroom for weeks – and grabbed the remote. He rolled over, and found the right channel.</p>
<p>‘– and both teams have been giving it all they’ve got tonight – this is the whole series, the whole season coming down to the dwindling time of this match. And it’s still nil-nil after 15 minutes.’</p>
<p>‘So is this some kind of final?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah,’ said Connor, scanning the melee of players. There was Zimmerman. They kept cutting to Bad Bob. ‘This is game seven.’</p>
<p>‘There have been six other games of this?’</p>
<p>‘Well, yeah. It’s a series, you see. And all four rounds of the playoffs are like that. This is as late as it can go, though. They’re not all that common.’</p>
<p>‘And that’s over, like, two months?’</p>
<p>‘Uh-huh.’</p>
<p>‘That’s intense.’</p>
<p>‘Mmm.’</p>
<p>Connor watched in silence for a bit, hoping that the guy would stop kissing his neck so sloppily soon.</p>
<p>‘You know, gay bars should have TVs like straight bars.’</p>
<p>‘What! Why?’</p>
<p>‘Well, queer people can like sports. Also – it’s hockey – who wouldn’t want to look at all that?’</p>
<p>‘True.’ The guy shifted. ‘You play hockey, then?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah.’</p>
<p>‘You seem a little on the skinny side.’ He nodded at the TV. ‘Not like them.’</p>
<p>‘You should see my captain. He’s tiny.’ He stared at the screen. Time was ticking down really close now.</p>
<p>‘How much more of this?’</p>
<p>‘If they score in the next ten minutes, then ten minutes. If not, then overtime.’</p>
<p>‘Which is…?’</p>
<p>‘Longer,’ he muttered absently. Pass, pass, intercept, check, pass, intercept, check, pass –</p>
<p>‘Hang on a minute!’ he said, moving the hand investigating his upper thigh away. Still looking at the game, he planted an absent-minded kiss on what was roughly this guy’s cheek. We can have all the sex we want once this is over, I promise.’</p>
<p>‘Not sure you’ll be able to keep up, babe.’</p>
<p>Again, eugh. But it bought him a few more minutes of peace.</p>
<p>‘And you know that Zimmerman dude?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah. Only a bit. He was at my college the year before I started. He comes back. Comes back quite a lot, actually. More than you’d expect.’</p>
<p>‘I wouldn’t mind getting to know him either.’ He leered. ‘If you know what I mean.’</p>
<p>Christ. The things he did for hockey.</p>
<p>‘Yeah. Makes some great plays.’</p>
<p>‘Wonder if his ass is in the same proportions as his –’</p>
<p>And there was a blare of a goal buzzer. Falconers up by one. They just needed to hold it for these last minutes. Connor shifted to the edge of his seat.</p>
<p>‘Wow, if sports gets you this riled up then maybe it should be in every bar.’</p>
<p>He didn’t bother answering, just watching, watching, watching –</p>
<p>The game ended. His shoulders slumped with relief. The camera focused on various members of the Falconers celebrating with each other. He felt the hand on his thigh again. People rushed on from the stands. The camera focused on Jack. Whiskey felt himself smile proudly for a guy he’d hardly met –</p>
<p>‘Did that little guy just kiss the big one with the hot butt?’</p>
<p>Connor stared, unable to move any part of his face. ‘Ugghh…’</p>
<p>‘Seriously? Is this not huge?’</p>
<p>It was fucking astronomical. ‘Um…’ He blinked several times. The kiss was being replayed. In his bag, dumped somewhere near the entrance of this grimy flat, he could almost hear his phone vibrating with the new messages that there had to be.</p>
<p>‘Do you know the little guy?’</p>
<p>He pulled himself out of his daze. ‘Yeah. That’s Bitty. He’s about to be my captain.’</p>
<p>‘Did you know they were going out?’</p>
<p>‘No. But, then, I guess I don’t know him all that well.’</p>
<p>Did this change everything? Or were things just going to get worse from hereon in?</p>
<p>‘Now, dude, could we get back to what we were doing?’</p>
<p>Connor supposed that they could.</p>
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